Book 39 - Better Days
by GailDunn2
Summary: WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT AND SITUATIONS. A shocking murder, a mission, and a fun excursion with an unexpected conclusion. Christmas comes with smiles and tears, and a shocking announcement. The New Year will signal the Beginning of The End.
1. Heaven Help My Heart

Chapter 1 - Heaven Help My Heart

As Sam sat there, stunned, Cas took charge.

"Take the boys home immediately, please," he said to Gail.

"Uh...we're men, Cas," Eric said irritably, but Gail held her hand up, silencing him. Cas had That Look on his face. She glanced at Sam, and her heart was heavy for him. Quinn was dead. Murdered. How must he be feeling right now?

"Come on, let's go, guys," Gail said. Without waiting for any other protest that might or might not be forthcoming, she moved swiftly to grab both Rob and Eric by the hand, winking them back to Frank's house.

Cas grabbed Sam's cell phone, taking it off Speaker. "How bad is it, Dean?" he asked his friend.

"Bad," Dean said shortly, staring down at Quinn's mutilated corpse.

"Take me over there, Cas," Sam said suddenly. "I want to see her."

"No, he doesn't," Dean said in Cas's ear. "Trust me."

Gail popped back in, and Cas said, "I'll be right there, Dean." He hung up the phone. "Gail, would you please stay here with Sam?"

"Take me over there," Sam said again, his voice louder and more insistent this time.

Cas looked at him sadly. "Sam, there's no need for you to see her like...that."

Sam stood from his chair, closing his laptop with a bang. "Yes, there is, Cas! I need to see her, to apologize. Even if she can't hear me. Don't you get it? I owe her that much. I need to see her, one last time."

"Sam..." Cas tried again, but Sam interrupted him. "If you guys won't take me, I'll drive over there myself," the younger Winchester said stubbornly.

"Of course we'll take you," Cas said, sighing. "As upset as you are, you shouldn't be driving." He took Gail by the hand, and she grabbed Sam's arm, and then the three of them were standing in Quinn's front hallway.

"Aww, geez!" Dean exclaimed. "Cas, I told you - "

"He insisted," Cas said, agitated. "He was going to drive over here, if we didn't bring him."

"Couldn't you have just knocked him out, or something?" Dean asked his Angel friend angrily. "Now, whenever he thinks of Quinn, that's gonna be all he sees! Believe me, I know."

Sam had moved into the living room now, and he got down on his knees beside Quinn's body. Oh, God. Look at her. He was going to be sick. But he made himself take her hand.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. You deserved better," Sam said softly, his eyes filling with tears. "I should have treated you better." He kissed her hand, then laid it gently on her stomach. Then, after a moment, he got up and went back to where the men and Gail were standing.

"Did you call the cops?" Sam asked his brother.

"Not yet," Dean said. "I don't think we should be here, when they get here. One look in Baby's trunk, and we're looking at 15 to life. They always suspect the boyfriend." Gail gasped, and Dean gave her a half-shrug. "Well, they do," he insisted.

Sam was frowning. "I hate to say this, but Dean's right," he said.

"But, you have an alibi," Gail pointed out. "You were in Las Vegas, with us."

"Be that as it may, I think Dean is right, also. I don't think we should be here when the authorities get here," Cas said, looking at her. "Take Sam and Dean back to the bunker. I'll drive the car there. That way, if anyone sees a vehicle driving away from here, it won't be either of you they describe." He put his hand on Sam's arm. "I'm very sorry, Sam, but I think it's for the best. Let the police handle it."

Sam let out a frustrated breath. But he realized that they were right. If the cops did a little digging, they might find out that Quinn's boyfriend had way more weapons than a normal person ought to have. And they might also find out that Quinn's boyfriend had slept with another woman recently, the second her back was turned. Yeah, that would go over real big, wouldn't it? He gazed through the doorway at poor Quinn's bloody corpse. Who would do that to her, and in such a violent way? Quinn had no enemies, none that he knew of. She wasn't like them. She'd just been a normal woman, trying to live a normal life. Well, as normal as a professional psychic's life could be, that was. Had it been one of her clients, angry at the reading they'd received, or something? No; that was ridiculous. She hadn't just been murdered, she'd been hacked to bits. Oh, God, here it came. The nausea, again. Poor Quinn. And now, the guilt started to come. She had needed his protection, and where had Sam been? Sleeping with another woman, and gallivanting around in Las Vegas. His stomach hurt.

"Come on, Sam," Gail said, taking his hand gently. Dean dug into the pocket of his jeans and handed Cas the car keys. If the situation had been less solemn, he probably would have made some kind of joke about Cas treating Dean's Baby like he would treat Gail, only better, but now was not the time. Right now they had to get Sammy home, get him a drink, and get that look off his face. Dean recognized that look. He should; he saw it in the mirror nearly every day of his life. Sam was blaming himself for what had happened here. Well, they needed to nip that right in the bud.

Dean took Gail's hand, and she winked the brothers to the bunker without another word.

Cas walked slowly into the living room and stared down at Quinn's body. He was compartmentalizing his emotions now, viewing the scene as a detective might. Quinn had been stabbed numerous times in and around her torso, and her neck was almost obliterated. This was clearly overkill, on the murderer's part. That usually suggested anger towards the victim. And the concentration on the throat area might signify that whoever had attacked Quinn had wanted to silence her. But in any event, this many stab wounds were completely unnecessary. One through the heart would have sufficed. But, this? This was a bloodbath.

He did a quick search, but there were no other clues to be found. Which, in and of itself, was curious. If the killer had been soaked with Quinn's blood, why would there be no blood trail leading away from the body? There was no blood in the front hallway or even on the porch, now anywhere else in the house. How could that be?

Cas took out his cell phone and placed an anonymous call to the police. Then he got into the Impala, and drove away.

As soon as they'd gotten back to the bunker, Sam sank slowly into a chair at the library table. Gail sat beside him, looking at him sadly. But, she had no words. What did you say in a situation like this? She had no clue.

Dean may not know what to say, but he sure as hell knew what to do. He strode down the hallway to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey with one hand, two glasses with the other, and brought them back to the library. He poured a healthy shot, then a little bit more, and put the glass in front of Sam.

"Drink up," Dean ordered, and Sam looked at him balefully. "Why is it that you think everything can be solved by booze, Dean?" the younger Winchester asked tonelessly.

Dean sighed. "I don't." He sat down next to his brother. "Look, Sam: this sucks. It really, really sucks. I get it. But I'm seeing that look on your face now, the one that says you're scum, and everything is your fault. I know that look. Hell, I INVENTED that look. But this has nothing to do with you, Sam."

"What do you mean, it has nothing to do with me?" Sam said incredulously. "It has EVERYTHING to do with me!"

"No, it doesn't," Dean shot back. "You could have slept with a hundred women, and it wouldn't have mattered. You think you could have protected her? Fair enough. But, the truth is: you can't always protect them. You and I have both learned that the hard way over the years, haven't we? Sometimes, you just can't protect them. Sometimes, bad things just happen, things that aren't your fault. This isn't on you, Sammy."

Sam reached out and grabbed the glass blindly, downing the shot Dean had poured him in a couple of swallows. Dean replenished Sam's glass, and his brother drank again. Dean nodded as if they'd spoken, sitting back in his chair, still regarding his brother.

Gail was staring at Sam too, and she was astonished. Sam was stoic. Calm, even. If that had been Cas on that floor, a broken and bloody mess, Gail would be inconsolable. How could you stand the thought of your loved one being murdered in cold blood like that? How could you?

There was only one answer to that question, then, wasn't there? Obviously, as broken up as he was about her death, Sam hadn't been in love with Quinn. He'd liked her, and been attracted to her, but there was no way he could have loved her. Which, in Gail's mind, made what had happened between Sam and Becky a little more explainable.

By the time Cas returned, the brothers were talking about possible suspects and a motive for Quinn's murder, almost like it was a case they had to solve. And while the concept was really weird to Gail, she supposed it was better than the alternative. Things were bad enough without Sam losing his mind.

Cas handed Dean the car keys, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder before drawing up a chair beside Gail. "The police are there, now," Cas told them. "I popped over there quickly, after I parked the car here in the garage, just to see."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement. "I can't figure out who the hell would want to do this to her, or why. Quinn kept to herself, much of the time. She has - had - a small family, and virtually no friends. She told me it was hard for a psychic to make friends, and harder still to keep them." His face twitched into a wry smile. "We even argued about that, a couple of times. I got the feeling she was 'reading' me sometimes, and I didn't like it." He propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. The others glanced at each other. Then Sam wiped his eyes with his hands and continued, "It must have been so hard for her. I guess I never really thought about it from her point of view before."

"Did she have any whacko clients?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at his brother. "What do you mean, 'whacko'?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know; I'm just spitballing, here."

"Since we seem to be talking about this, I need to talk about the elephant," Gail piped up.

The men looked at her. "Huh? What elephant?"

Really? They had to be kidding her with this. Gail looked at all three of them, gesturing. "Uhh...the obvious suspect would be Becky," she told them.

Cas was nodding now. A part of him had been thinking that very same thing. It would make a horrible kind of sense. The overkill tactic he'd seen suggested that the person who had wielded the knife had felt animosity towards Quinn. Now that Sam had slept with Becky, he had, however unwittingly, given her the impression that the two of them had a relationship. Would not Becky have then wanted to eliminate her rival for Becky's affections?

He voiced these thoughts aloud now, but Dean scoffed at the idea. He didn't believe for a second that Becky had that kind of violence in her. Becky might be a lot of things, but she was no mad dog killer.

Cas wasn't so sure. He remembered that time that Becky had dispatched that man in Africa so coldly and efficiently with the nail file. Becky knew many ways to kill a person. Cas knew that she did, because he had shown Becky most of them himself. Maybe this wouldn't be the best time to bring that up, though. But did Becky really have the temperament to do something like this? Self-defense was one thing, but this murder had been the act of a psychotic.

And there was one other thing: Becky was no longer an Angel; she was a human, now. Quinn had been bigger in stature than Becky. Wouldn't there have been some signs of a struggle? Becky would have tracked blood all over the floor when she went to leave the house, because as a human, she could no longer teleport.

None of it added up. Sam sighed, rising from his chair. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. I appreciate all of you, having my back. But I'm with Dean; I don't think Becky did it, either. But I need to talk to her anyway, so I'll go to her place tomorrow. If she's home, we'll have our talk. But if I get any kind of hinky feeling from her, I'll give her name to the cops."

"Do you want us to go with you?" Cas offered, but Sam gave him a sad smile. "No, Cas. This is my mess, so it's my job to deal with it. Goodnight." Then he went off down the hall to his room.

The next day, after a couple of hours of fitful sleep, Sam got up early and drove over to Becky's house. Assuming she was still modelling, her hours might be flexible, but he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

Vincent had expected something like this to happen, even before Becky had gotten all stabby over at Quinn's place. Of course Sam Winchester would show up on innocent young Becky's doorstep. He would want to apologize for his despicable, unforgiveable actions. Vincent smirked. Consciences. What a bitch they could be, sometimes.

But Quinn's murder complicated things, of course. He had initially told Becky not to answer the door. Vincent didn't trust Becky not to blab about their special secret. He couldn't have that happen. It was still too soon for an announcement like that. Besides, now that he'd said it, Vincent really did want the Big Reveal to take place at Christmas. It would be far more hilarious that way.

But Vincent had forgotten that Becky was, first and foremost, an idiot. She had reluctantly agreed not to answer the door when Sam came to call, but she hadn't been able to resist taking a peek out the window at him. Sam had seen the curtains move, and then it was game over.

"I saw you, Becky, and I'm not leaving until you let me in. We have to talk about what happened between us. And we have to talk about Quinn," Sam said through the door.

Quinn?! Becky looked at Vincent, panicked. He grabbed her and pulled her away from the door, out of earshot.

"Don't freak out," Vincent said to the girl. "You look like you're one step away from confessing."

"He knows," Becky said, wide-eyed. "That's why he's here."

"No, it's not," Vincent said, rolling his eyes. "He's here because he's a Boy Scout. He wants to talk about your feelings. It's all very sweet. And very sickening, at the same time. Even if he knows Quinn is dead, he won't tie it to you. He can't. Don't worry. Now, come on. Be the strong woman I know you are. Put your hand on your stomach."

So Becky did, and it was funny: every time she did that, she felt calmer. More confident, somehow. Was this how all mothers felt? It was fantastic. Now she understood all those stories about the mothers who went all nuts when somebody said or did something to hurt their kid. As she felt the baby move, Becky realized that she had just done what she'd had to do at Quinn's place. Quinn had been a threat to Becky and Sam's baby, so she'd had to go. It was as simple as that.

"All right, you can let him in, now," Vincent told Becky. "But unless you want to have your baby in a jail cell and then have him taken away from you, you'd better keep your yap shut. And don't touch your stomach while he's here. It'll look weird. Remember, you're going to wait until Christmas, when you can make the big announcement in front of the entire family. Won't that be great?"

Becky smiled. Yes, it would be. Even if some of them didn't really like Becky, they would have no choice but to accept her as a member of the family, then. And nobody in the God Squad would dare suggest that she get rid of it. That would go against their religion. She giggled, then strode over to the front door and opened it.

"Hi, Sam. How are you?" Becky said cheerfully. "Come on in. I have to go to the studio in a little while, but I can give you about twenty minutes."

Vincent grinned. He'd made himself invisible again. The ingredients for that spell didn't come cheaply or easily, but he'd just had to be here to see this. What was really a shame was that he wouldn't be able to be there at Christmas, for the Big Reveal. But there was no way Vincent was going to be able to even get near Castiel's house. Just like the bunker, it was protected to the hilt. Boy, would that have been fun, though.

But it was important for him to be here now, just in case Becky slipped. He knew she still had the occasional bout of conscience. It would slowly ebb away, a little bit more every day, as The Son took over. But, it was a process. That was why Vincent had been introducing the blood into her system, through the health drinks and the steaks. Eventually, the baby would take over and feed itself, however it needed to.

"Becky, I have some bad news," Sam said, watching her face closely. "Quinn is dead."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean, Sam? What happened to her?"

Vincent had to hand it to Becky. When she needed to, she could really pull it together. She was projecting just the right amount of shock, concern, and innocence.

"I think you know what happened to her," Sam said calmly. He was trying the classic investigators' technique now, to see what information she might supply on her own.

But Becky was a lot more savvy than that. "She didn't commit suicide, did she?" she said innocently, and Vincent had to suppress a laugh. Damn, Becky was good.

Sam was astonished. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I did that once, remember?" Becky said pointedly, and if Vincent had had a microphone in his hand, he would have dropped it on the floor, because as the young people said, Sam had just gotten served. When Vincent and Becky had merged together to make The Son, because that was honestly the way that Vincent looked at it, he had seen into her mind. Into every detail of her sad, pathetic little life. So he knew that Becky had committed suicide a number of years ago, because Sam had rejected her. Wow. When Becky decided to burn someone, she threw out the matchbook and used a blowtorch, instead. No wonder there were aspects of her personality that Vincent liked so much.

Sam's mouth closed with a snap, and Becky smiled internally, resisting the urge to put her hand on her stomach. But she could feel a surge of confidence now, anyway. She put her hand on Sam's arm, instead. "Look, Sam. I'm not going to cause you any trouble. I don't know what happened to Quinn, and I'm not even going to ask you, because it's none of my business. What happened between you and me was one of those things that happens to people from time to time when they're vulnerable. I don't know about you, but it was really comforting for me to be with a friend that night. But you've made it very clear that you don't want a relationship with me, and I've gotten the message, Sam. So don't worry about me. You and I are fine. I'm hoping Cas and Gail will invite me for Christmas this year, though, because I'd like to see Jody before - " Becky's voice broke, and she made tears come to her eyes.

Sam felt like a monster, which had been the whole point, of course. He had come here loaded for bear, prepared to tell Becky to leave him the hell alone. But the fact was, she WAS leaving him alone. She was actually being very mature about this whole deal. More so than Sam was.

"It's been good to see you, Sam, but I have a photo shoot to get to," Becky said now. "Take care of yourself, and give Jody my best wishes." Then she shooed a dazed Sam out of her house, and locked the door behind him.

"That was an impressive job," Vincent said, showing himself. "I'm very proud of you, Becky."

She smiled. Actually, she was pretty proud of herself, too. Now that Sam was gone, she put her hand on her stomach again, feeling the reassuring movement of their baby. A part of her really did believe that Sam might still come around, if she handled him right. But even if he didn't, the two of them were bound irrevocably now, because they were going to be parents. It was almost like a romance novel, or a fairy tale.

Becky yawned, and Vincent smiled paternally. "Why don't you go back to bed for a while? I'll come tuck you in, and later, I'll bring you something really good to eat."

She yawned again, and the two of them walked up the stairs together. When they got to her bedroom, Vincent went into the dresser to get Becky a fresh, fluffy nightgown. He helped her to undress. There was nothing creepy about that; he did that all the time. Becky thought it was kind of sweet.

Once she was in bed, Vincent drew the covers up to her chin. "Are you comfortable, Little Mother?" he asked her, and she smiled again, nodding. Her eyelids were already getting heavy.

But then, Vincent put his hand on her stomach, and she felt a violent lurch. For an instant, Vincent's face changed, and Becky's eyes widened. He was pale, with sunken eyes, ancient, cracked skin, and rows of sharp fangs for teeth.

But then she blinked, and he was back to normal. Wow. Holy moly. That had been weird. Vincent had warned her that she might have some weird dreams as the baby got bigger, but she wasn't even asleep yet, was she? Then she shrugged it off. Obviously, she must have dozed off for a minute there. Vincent gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then Becky drifted off to sleep.

Benoit had arrived at Dr. Roarke's lab, in response to the Angel's request to stop by. The testing on all the subjects they'd poached from the compound was nearly complete, and the doctor said that Benoit would be astounded at what he had to show him today.

It had all been pretty impressive so far, but there were more surprises to come. Benoit had been fairly convinced that they had gotten the cream of the crop, considering how little time they'd had to assess them all. He would have liked to have had a psychic or two in the mix, but he supposed you couldn't win them all. He had seriously considered bringing Rob for that very reason, but because Rob came with so much family baggage, he'd decided to leave the young man be. Benoit was trying to be as unobtrusive as he could be right now, considering the fact that he was running for the Presidency of a large European country. The last thing he would need would be to attract the attention of the American Hunters, or worse, the Angels.

"Hello, Toby," Benoit said to one of the subjects, a gangly young man in his mid-20s.

"Hey, Mister Levesque," Toby said affably, in greeting. Benoit gritted his teeth. Why was it that nearly every American insisted on pronouncing the "s" in his last name? At least Michelle hadn't done that, he thought warmly. Of course, by the time she had left Paris, they had been on a first-name basis, anyway. They'd had a few dates before she'd gone back to New Orleans, but even though Benoit had worked very hard at seducing her, Michelle had kept him at arms' length, and for that, he respected her all the more. He'd escorted her to the airport, given her what he'd hoped was a memorable kiss at the gate, and then that had been that. But he'd made it very clear that he would like to see her again.

"Toby has demonstrated a skill set that I thought you would be very interested in seeing," Dr. Roarke told Benoit now. "It's still a little hit and miss, but when it works, it's spectacular. Here. Let us show you." He laid a ruler down on the table. "Now, concentrate, Toby. Don't be nervous."

Toby wished he hadn't said that. It was a little nerve-wracking to try to do something like this anyway, when you weren't sure if it was even going to work. But now, with the boss staring at him, Toby was even more intimidated. But he concentrated dutifully, and the ruler wiggled, and then it changed into...a bowling ball. Dammit!

Benoit stared, saying nothing. Well, that had certainly been different. But did it have a practical application? He supposed it depended on the situation. It bore further study, at the very least.

But then Toby said, "I want to try again. That's not what was supposed to happen."

Dr. Roarke glanced at Benoit, who shrugged. "Why not?" he said. "I've come all this way, anyway."

Thus encouraged, Toby marshalled all his forces of concentration. And when Dr. Roarke placed an apple on the table, Toby scrunched up his face, and changed it into a hand grenade.

Benoit's face broke into a huge grin. He picked it up, examining it. "This looks like the real thing," Benoit remarked. "Have one of your assistants take it outside and test it." Then he nodded his approval at the young man. "Merci, Toby. Keep up the good work."

As Benoit moved on, he felt a thrill of excitement. Imagine having someone on his staff who could make actual, working weapons out of everyday objects. Unbelievable.

"Now, before we get to this next station, I have to tell you that we have had to break a number of eggs to get to this particular omelet," Dr. Roarke said, and Benoit looked at him with a raised eyebrow. That was the expression the Angel used when he was preparing Benoit for the very real possibility that the experiment he was set to perform would result in some deaths. Luckily, the good doctor had a very efficient crematorium on the premises, and he made frequent use of it. That was why the facility was located so far outside the city. The irony was completely lost on Roarke.

"Hello, Lorrie. How are you tonight?" Benoit asked the young woman.

She shrugged. "I'm all right, I guess. How much longer am I going to be cooped up here?"

"Only a few more minutes, my dear," Benoit said smoothly. "If you would be so kind as to demonstrate your skill for me, I will take you out in my limousine, anywhere you want to go. If you wish to go shopping, we'll make sure to slip you a little bonus. Just don't tell the others."

Lorrie dimpled. She had learned as far back as the compound that if she pouted a little, she frequently received things that others did not.

Dr. Roarke frowned. In his opinion, Benoit was far too permissive with the young people in his charge. But then again, he supposed that was easy for him to say. Benoit was a human, not an Angel, and he had eight packages of dynamite at his fingertips. Some of the particular talents these youngsters had were proving to be more lethal than others, and as they had learned at the compound with Jason, situations could turn volatile in a hurry when it came to Vincent's offspring.

And Dr. Roarke wasn't the boss; Benoit was. Roarke didn't mind. He was happy here. He brought Lorrie a plate of food as Benoit looked on curiously.

Lorrie sighed a little. This was the part she didn't like, although she guessed it could be a lot worse. She could be on the other end of that plate of food, she thought with a smirk. She placed her index finger in the centre of the food, which appeared to be some kind of fried rice mixture. She concentrated for a moment, then removed her finger from the plate and cleaned her hand with disinfectant. Roarke gave the plate to an assistant, who walked away with it. Then the doctor placed another plate in front of Lorrie. Benoit didn't recognize the dish, but it smelled very pungent to him. "Full strength, please," the doctor said to her. She repeated the process, and then Dr. Roarke took the plate from her.

"Thank you," Benoit said to her. "You can go and freshen up now, and I'll meet you back here in fifteen minutes." He followed Dr. Roarke to the testing rooms, where they stood behind one-way glass to observe the assistant bring the first subject the plate of fried rice. They had advertised in certain neighbourhoods for taste testers for some new products that were being marketed. Out of the couple of dozen people who had expressed interest, a short list of ethnic individuals had been chosen. They would be paid to try certain foods, and give their impressions. And they would need to sign waivers, absolving the testers of any liability, first.

Not that it ultimately mattered, of course. Everyone who had consumed Lorrie's special dishes had died and gone into Dr. Roarke's crematorium, never to be seen again. Some died quicker than others, depending on how much "oomph" she put into it, but it had never failed to work.

As the men stood there and observed both sets of victims choking and struggling for breath, Benoit was intrigued. How on earth would some of these young people ever have found out that they had the particular talents that they did? Had Lorrie accidentally stuck her finger in a classmate's pudding one day, poisoning the child? It amused him to picture the various scenarios in which those discoveries had taken place.

"An excellent job, as always, Dr. Roarke," Benoit said to the doctor as they watched the bodies of the taste-testers being taken away.

Roarke nodded briefly. He already knew that. He was still an Angel, after all. An evil, amoral one, but an Angel, nonetheless. Benoit was now stating the obvious.

"We have two more of your staff to test, and then we will be done," Dr. Roarke stated dispassionately. "Unless you want me to start on the boy. How is the medication working, by the way?"

"Very well," Benoit advised. "We have had no further household staff injuries." He thought for a moment. "No, we had better save his testing until after the election. I don't want to do anything to upset the apple cart right now."

Dr. Roarke nodded. "All right. I will call you when the teleporters are ready to demonstrate."

Benoit went back to the spot where he'd arranged to meet with Lorrie, extremely pleased at how everything was going.

A week had passed, and Sam was working through the grieving process. Quinn's aunt had come to town and attempted to claim her body for the funeral services. But the police were holding it in the morgue, and they still had the house roped off as a crime scene. The aunt had been mad, according to Sam's contact in the police department.

"You know, I shouldn't be telling you any of this," the Officer had told the younger Winchester. "What I should be doing is bringing you in for questioning."

"Come on, Foley, you know I would never do something like that," Sam said earnestly. "I wasn't even in town the week she got back from the Expo. I was in Vegas, with Dean and two of our friends."

"Then why don't you just come in and give a statement?" Sergeant Foley asked him.

"You know why," Sam said, frustrated. "Dean and I live in a secret bunker, with way too many weapons handy. We have money, but no jobs. There's no way we can start pulling on that thread."

Foley sighed. "Yeah, Sam. I know. But if you and Dean hadn't helped out with that monster problem in my neighbourhood, I might have to insist. I'll keep you posted, if there are any developments." Then he'd hung up.

That had been earlier in the day, and now the brothers, Cas, Gail and Gabriel were gathered around the library table, talking about the upcoming mission to retrieve Gabriel's blade. Their applications for the poker tournament had all come back, approved, and now they were discussing logistics.

"How sure are we that that's my blade?" Gabriel inquired, peering over Sam's shoulder at the laptop screen. "Are there any pictures of it?"

"No," Sam replied, "just a description. Says here it's an odd-looking, large knife, with mysterious markings on it."

"Oh, yeah?" Gabriel sniffed in indignation. "Well, maybe that billionaire guy is odd-looking."

Sam smirked. Angels were sure touchy, sometimes. "But, the article said it was found when they dredged the Mississippi River, and Rob said that's the location his vision showed."

Gabe was thoughtful. "OK, that's gotta be it, then. But why are you guys coming with us?"

Dean stared at him balefully. "Okay, first of all: you're welcome. Second, we're bored. No cases right now. And, third, more chances to win."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, then looked at Cas. "Which brings me to the obvious question: why don't we just steal the damn thing? Actually, it wouldn't even BE stealing. It's mine."

"We're not doing that," Cas said firmly. "The cruise and poker tournament is being held to raise money to build a local childrens' hospital. If we stole the blade, they would have to cancel the tournament. We're not going to negate all the good work that could be done with the money that they're going to raise."

"Besides, we don't even know for sure if it's your blade," Gail added. "We'll see when we get there."

"Don't worry, Brother," Cas remarked, straight-faced. "We'll enter the tournament, we'll help a very worthy cause, and if one of us does not win the tournament, THEN we'll steal the knife."

Gabriel smiled. He guessed he had no problem with that. Cas was a lot more ethical these days, but he still knew how to take care of business.

"Uhh...there's one other thing," Sam said, scrolling down.

"What is it, Sam?" Cas asked.

"All of the attendees have to wear period costumes, from the late 1800s," Sam replied.

Dean groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me," he complained.

"I'm afraid not," Sam said with a half-grin. "Says here that they want the authentic riverboat gambling kind of experience."

"Time to do some research," Gail said, nudging Sam. "I think, as usual, you guys'll get off pretty easily. Just some kind of variation on suits, I'll bet. Meanwhile, I'll have to wear some long, frilly monstrosity, with about fifteen layers underneath."

"What should I look up?" Sam said, starting to type. "Riverboats of the 1800s? Oh, hey; there was a musical called 'Showboat' in the 1950s, I think. Maybe they'll have screen shots of what the people would have been wearing, back then."

"A musical," Dean said with disgust. "Come on, Sammy. You're embarrassing yourself."

Gail and Sam were ignoring him. "Wait; I know!" Gail said suddenly. "Karma Chameleon!"

Gabriel was looking at her strangely. "What kind of ancient language is that?"

But Dean was looking horrified now. He pointed a finger at her. "Don't say it."

She said it. "Boy George. Culture Club."

"OK, I know those are words you're speaking right now, but they're still not making any sense," Gabriel said, puzzled.

"That was a singing group, in the 1980s," Cas said absently. "They made a number of musical videos, based on their songs. 'Karma Chameleon' was one." As Gabriel stared at him, open-mouthed, Cas gave his Angel Brother a half-shrug. "It comes and goes."

Sam was nodding. "That's right. That video had a paddlewheel boat, and they were dressed in period costumes."

Dean was mortified. "OK, this is really bad, now. Now, you're not only embarrassing yourself, you're embarrassing ME. After we do this thing, I might have to take you for a DNA test, to make sure we're really related."

"Pull it up," Gail exhorted Sam, pointing to the computer. "It's been years since I've seen that video. I want to see what everybody's wearing."

"Or you could just look at pictures on Google, like normal people," Dean pointed out, but his protests were falling on deaf ears. Sam put the video on, and he and Gail watched avidly. She began to sway to the music, as Dean rolled his eyes.

Gabriel was peering over Sam's other shoulder again. "Is that a GUY?" he said, puzzled.

Sam's lips were twitching. "Yeah. That's the band's lead singer, Boy George."

"Don't call them a 'band'," Dean moaned.

"Well, at least the costumes are fairly accurate for the period," Gabriel commented.

Sam let the song finish, and then he looked at the others. "So I guess we're going on a field trip to the costume rental place, then?"

Gabriel looked at the younger Winchester. "Seriously, how are you doing, Sam? Cas told me about what happened to Quinn. I know a little something about how that feels. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Sam was astounded. He'd never seen Gabe like this before. "Thanks," he said in a dazed voice.

"Come on, Kitten, you can ride with me," Gabriel said, taking Gail by the hand. "We've gotta get you a head start, seeing as you'll be wearing about a dozen undergarments. You ever worn a bustle before?"

"I knew it!" she said, exasperated. "Why do us women always get the short end of the stick?"

"There's a very obvious joke in there, but I'm gonna leave it alone," Gabe said, smirking. "I feel like I need to point out to you that you're never satisfied. Too few clothes in Saqqara, too many clothes here..."

Gail glared at the Archangel. "And yet somehow, you're always involved," she said coolly.

"Just lucky, I guess," he said happily. "Hey, Google-meister, what's the address of the place?" he asked Sam. The younger Winchester told him, and Gabriel smirked again. "Catch you losers later," he said, and he snapped his fingers and winked himself and Gail out of the bunker.

Cas sighed. Gabriel was a work in progress, but he was still Gabriel. He looked at Dean, who fished in his pocket for the car keys. "Let's go get some costumes, boys," Dean said, resigned.


	2. No Limit

Chapter 2 - No Limit

The five of them were standing on the dock, waiting to board the Mississippi Gold Nugget, a paddlewheel boat that operated as a casino. The host of the function had rented it for the evening.

Dean had grumbled about wearing a costume, but now that he'd seen the boat, he was getting excited. He'd always wanted to do some riverboat gambling. The boat looked just like he'd envisioned it: three tiers, American flags and bunting, and big red paddle wheels on the back.

Cas and Gabriel had counselled them on the proper types of clothing from the era, and the Winchesters were relieved to see that they were dressed pretty much the same as the other men. When they'd looked at top hats, waistcoats and puffy shirts at the costume rental place, they'd been skeptical. But Cas had insisted that those things were authentic. And HIM, they trusted. Gabe might be trying to turn over a new leaf, but that didn't mean he was above having some fun at their expense.

Gail had chosen a red silk off-the-shoulder dress that she had thought was pretty. It had frills on the sleeves, which were short, and a cinched-in waistline. It was a good thing she didn't eat, because it would have been difficult to do much of that, with the dress being as tight around the middle as it was. She had a wrap on her shoulders, too, which was comforting to her, because the dress was a lot more low-cut than anything she was used to wearing.

She'd drawn the line at a bustle, though. They had been at the costume shop, just her and Gabriel, waiting for the guys to get there by car. He'd told Gail that he had wanted to help her pick out a pretty outfit to surprise Cas with, and she had half believed him. But when he had told her that she was supposed to wear a bustle, and had shown her what that entailed, she had scoffed.

"Yeah, right. As if," Gail had said, making a face. "I'm not going to wear that thing."

Gabe shrugged. "That's what the women wore, back then. I'm not even joking." He waggled an eyebrow. "And let me tell you, it was a real challenge."

She looked at him, then laughed. "How did women sit down in these things?" she asked him curiously.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I never really thought about it."

"Wow. Sir Mix-A-Lot would have loved this," she said, still eyeing the bustle curiously.

"Sir Who?" Gabriel asked her.

"'I like big butts, and I cannot lie'?" she said hopefully, wiggling her rear end. Gabriel continued to stare at her blankly, and Gail gave up. "You have to spend more time on Earth," she told him.

She'd looked around a little bit more, then picked up a hand fan. She flicked her wrist, opening it up. "Why, I do declare," Gail said, holding it in front of her face. "I should bring this. It might come in handy."

"To cool off, if you get warm?" Gabe asked.

"No. To whack you with, if you get out of line," she retorted, and Gabriel grinned, delighted. "You mean WHEN I get out of line," he'd said, waggling his eyebrow again.

So now, the five of them were boarding the boat with everyone else, and Gail was looking admiringly at her husband. Cas was wearing a black top hat, a black suit with a grey vest, and a blue ascot tie that matched his eyes. He looked very handsome. Actually, they all did. Dean was wearing a brown coat and suit, with a green ascot tie. Gabriel had a long grey jacket on, and black pants. When Gail had teased him about his outfit's lack of colour, he had opened his coat to show her its bright red lining, joking that he'd wanted to match her dress. And Sam wore a dark brown coat with a cream shirt, tan pants, and for the crowning touch, he carried a walking stick.

They boarded the boat, and Dean made a beeline for the bar. The others followed, and they all ordered a drink. After everyone was boarded, the vessel was going to begin its slow cruise down the Mississippi River. There was going to be a dinner, and then the poker tournament was set to begin shortly after sunset.

The men were looking around the room now, sizing up the competition. "How many people are entered in this thing, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother.

"They capped it at 50," Sam replied.

"Piece of cake," Gabriel said confidently. "One of us'll win, for sure."

Sam regarded him. "What makes you so confident?"

Gabriel lowered his voice. "Cas and I are Angels. We've had untold centuries of practice bluffing humans."

Dean rolled his eyes. Whatever. But he was loving this right now. It reminded him of that movie, Maverick. That was when Mel Gibson had been cool, of course. Before he'd turned into a douche.

As more people started to come into the bar area, there were men who were circulating around acting as butlers, wearing black suits and white gloves. One of them stopped in front of the group. "Coat check," he said.

Cas looked at Gail. He held out his hand for her wrap, handing the employee his hat.

Oh, crap. She'd been afraid of this. But, there was no way she would be able to play cards properly with one hand holding her wrap against her chest. Besides, it was getting a little bit warm in here now, with all the passengers coming in to get a drink. She sighed, taking it off her shoulders and handing it over.

The dress was pretty, but there was way more decolletage than Gail would normally be comfortable with. She guessed she really hadn't thought it through. But as she saw Gabriel's jaw drop when he looked at her, Gail started to wonder if her discomfort might come with an advantage.

Cas gave the employee a tip, accepting the ticket for their items. He looked calmly at his wife. The dress she was wearing was historically correct, although it was a bit more revealing than he would have liked. But Cas said nothing, because he didn't want to make Gail even more self-conscious than he was sure she already was.

Gabriel, on the other hand, felt no such inhibition. "Boobies," he said, gaping at her.

Dean turned to look at the Archangel. "Really?" he said incredulously.

Sam smirked. He couldn't help it. "You should be happy, Dean," he wisecracked. "For a change, you're not the least mature guy in the room."

Dean opened his mouth, about to utter a scathing retort, but then he relented. After all the heartache Sam had been through lately, it was good to see him making jokes. That didn't mean that Dean was unwilling to stir things up, though. He elbowed Cas, nodding at Gabriel.

"Uhhh...my eyes are up here," Gail said to the Archangel.

"I'd listen to her, if I were you," Dean told Gabriel. "I know that voice. I've been on the receiving end of it, lots of times. That's her 'I'm-getting-ready-to-kick-your-ass' voice. Right, Sammy?"

As Sam nodded, Gabriel smirked. "Oh, so she gets that tone when you guys are acting like a couple of boobs, then, is that what you're saying?"

Gail was the one who was rolling her eyes now, and she was willing herself not to smile. That would only encourage him. Fortunately, she was saved by the announcement that dinner was now being served.

Cas pulled out Gail's chair for her at the table, then he sat beside her. Gabriel was to his left, then Dean, then Sam, to Gail's right. The Angels picked up menus. They were going to have to order dinner too, so as not to arouse suspicion.

"What are you guys having?" Gail asked, nudging Sam.

"I'm looking for a healthy option," he responded. "A lot of this Southern food is really rich. Maybe they have some lean chicken."

Gail glanced apprehensively at Gabriel. Don't say breast, don't say breast, she implored Sam mentally.

Luckily, he didn't, but Gabriel wasn't done yet. He elbowed Dean. "So, who do you think's gonna win the World Series?" Gabe asked him. "The Cleavage Indians? - I mean, the Cleveland Indians? Or, the Minnesota Twins, maybe?"

Gail dropped her menu on the table. "OK, that's it! Since my legs aren't long enough to kick you under this table, I'm just going to have Cas take you outside, beat you up, and throw you overboard."

"Gladly," Cas said, pretending to rise from his chair.

"All right, all right. I'll be good," Gabriel told them, picking his menu up and scanning it.

Thankfully, no more jokes were forthcoming for the next few minutes. The waiter came, and they all placed their orders.

"Say, my good man, how are the asparagus tips?" Gabriel asked the waiter. Gail looked at him sharply, but Sam's lips twitched. "That's a real item on the menu," he told Gail, showing her. Gabe gave her a toothy grin, and now she was trying not to smile again. He was driving her nuts. The problem was, he was also funny as hell, and he knew it. No wonder he had gotten away with so many shenanigans over the years.

"So, you think you're gonna do pretty good in the tournament?" Dean said to Gabriel, trying to change the subject. Cas looked like he'd just about reached the end of his rope. Could Angels burst a blood vessel?

"Of course I am," Gabe said, leaning back in his chair. He looked around the room. "Look at some of these mooks."

"I don't think being an Archangel is gonna be an advantage here," Dean remarked.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about ME," Gabriel said immodestly. "I'm a master of games, and deception. You and the Jolly Brown Giant there should know that better than anybody."

Dean shook his head slowly. He'd almost forgotten how obnoxious this guy could be. But at least it looked like Cas's blood pressure was going down, now that the subject had been changed.

"Please allow me to introduce myself," a man said, approaching their table. "My name is David Farraday. I'm your host this evening."

They all regarded him with interest. He was a tall, handsome man with a nice smile, and there was a bit of a Southern drawl to his voice. They all introduced themselves using their first names only, and when Gail said her name, Farraday moved around the table to stand between her and Sam. David took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I went through all the application forms myself, and I was pleased to see that we had a female player. I'm afraid you'll be the only one, dear lady. I hope you don't mind."

She smiled. "I'm used to holding my own in a male-dominated field."

"I'm sure you are," he said, returning her smile. "I'm sorry for your loss, by the way. But it looks like your late husband's business is in good hands."

Cas's lips pursed, but they'd talked about this before they came. One of the rules of the tournament stated that a husband and wife could not both play in the tournament. Maybe they were trying to guard against collusion or something, Sam had reasoned. So he had listed Gail as a wealthy widow, instead of as Cas's wife. Cas had understood, but he hadn't liked it very much.

He liked it even less now, when David said, "I'll look forward to seeing you at the tables, after dinner. Perhaps you will allow me to buy you a drink."

"You're a billionaire, aren't you? You can buy all my friends drinks," she replied pertly. David threw back his head and laughed. "I think I'm going to like you," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some hosting duties to perform. I'll see y'all later. Good luck, everyone." Then he kissed her hand again, and walked away.

"'Y'all'," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "That's so stupid."

Sam grinned. "At least there's a group of us. What's really stupid is when they use it to refer to just one person."

"I don't like the way he was looking at you, Kitten," Gabriel stated.

"He was looking at me exactly the same way that you were, a few minutes ago," Gail said pointedly.

He looked offended. "Yeah, but, I'm family."

"See, you think what you're saying now makes that better, but it actually makes it worse," she said dryly.

Sam had been taking a drink of water, and he laughed at what she'd said, nearly spitting it out. Dean smiled. He'd figured this was gonna be fun, but it got better and better every minute. And he was really glad to see Sam smiling. His brother had been despondent over Quinn's death. Which was understandable, but it had hurt Dean to see his little brother hurting. The Gail and Gabriel Show could be just the right kind of medicine right now.

But Cas was not amused. Not one little bit. He glared at David Farraday's retreating back. "I'm going to keep a very close eye on him," he declared.

"No, you're not," Gail told him. "You're going to play your usual, stellar game. As much as I love it when you get like this, I don't want you thrown off your game. I can handle somebody like him. He's just being a charming Southern gentleman."

"He kissed your hand," Cas said, tight-lipped. "Twice."

Gail shrugged. "OK, that was a little over-the-top, but I'm pretty sure that's just how Southern guys act."

"Yeah, Cas. I hear Colonel Sanders kisses every chicken wing, before he drops it into the fryer," Dean said, smirking.

Gail looked at him, mystified. "What does that even MEAN?"

"Hey, I'm trying to help you out, here," Dean said, shrugging.

"I'm not so sure you are," she shot back.

A short while later, their dinners came. The Angels picked at theirs, mainly pushing the food around their plates. Sam and Dean ended up with extra helpings of a lot of things. Finally, Cas laid his napkin down beside his plate.

"Let's go see the sunset," he said to Gail.

She smiled. "I'd like that."

As Cas stood and pulled her chair out for her, Gabriel said, "Maybe I should come, too. I think you guys need a chaperone."

Cas smiled grimly. "That offer to throw you overboard still stands."

Gabe sat back down. "On the other hand, maybe I'll just stay here and soak up the ambiance. You two kids, enjoy."

Cas and Gail exited the dining room and went out on deck. He was hoping they would be alone, but others had obviously had the same idea. There were almost a dozen people out here, enjoying the fresh air. He and Gail moved to the railing, out of earshot of the others.

"I don't like having to pretend that we're not married," Cas said, frowning. "I didn't like it in Egypt, and I don't like it now."

There was a lot that Gail could have said about that. She could have pointed out that, technically, they WEREN'T married when they'd been in Egypt. She could also have pointed out that the scales had been very unbalanced back then. Cas had been living in the Royal Palace, and she'd been a single woman of no standing, who'd had to keep her face covered, and couldn't go out anywhere in public unless accompanied by a man. Now, she and Cas were on equal footing, and she was kind of enjoying playing a role, for a change. Now, Gail was beginning to see the appeal of stepping outside of herself for a brief time. Now, she believed she understood why Cas liked it so much.

"I don't know," she said. "I think it's kind of hot."

Cas's forehead wrinkled. "Why would making believe that you're not my wife be hot?" he inquired.

Gail raised an eyebrow to him. "You think about that, for a while. See if you can figure it out. In the meantime, let's watch the sunset."

They did, and it was spectacular. Then Gail started to feel a little chilly, and Cas began to take off his coat, but she said, "That's okay; we'd better get back inside. The tournament's probably going to start soon."

When they'd returned to the dining room, David Farraday called for everyone's attention. "While the dishes are being cleared, I just wanted to go over what's going to happen," he told the guests. "For those ladies and gentlemen who aren't playing poker, we will have coffee, dessert and liqueur, and an auction here on the Main Level. And for those gentlemen - and lady - " he looked at Gail, raising his glass to her " - who are in the poker tournament, if you'll follow me to the Third Level upstairs, we'll get started."

As their group stood, Gail touched Cas on his arm. "Now, remember: I'm Madame Rabajoie, a wealthy widow whose husband left his multi-million dollar company to her to run. You guys are all employees of the firm."

"Rabajoie?" Gabriel inquired curiously. He hadn't been at the bunker when they'd worked out her cover story. "That sounds like..."

"'Rabat-joie', which, loosely translated, means 'buzz kill'. A little inside joke," Sam told him.

"And I'm putting you on notice that I'm not above a little flirting, if it'll throw some guys off their game," Gail continued, still looking at her husband.

Cas frowned, but he said nothing. He could understand what she was saying, and intellectually, he believed it was a good tactic on her part. Perhaps if some of the men were distracted like that, they would lose focus, and get knocked out of the tournament that much sooner. He would try not to let it bother him too much.

"Are you kidding?" Gabriel said happily. "You're our secret weapon, Kitten. Just flash those around, and they'll be dropping like flies."

"Hundred bucks HE gets knocked out, first," Dean said to Sam, smirking.

Cas was glaring at Gabriel again, and the Archangel looked back at him, wide-eyed. "What? I was talking about her eyes. Her big, brown, beautiful eyes."

Cas continued to regard his Brother for a moment. "Fine," he said. "Make sure those are what you're looking at, then." Cas gestured to Gail. "Ladies first, Madame." She led the way. Cas was behind her, then Sam, with Gabriel and Dean after.

"I was totally NOT talking about her eyes," Gabe said to Dean, sotto voce.

"I wouldn't push it much more, if I were you," Dean said to the Archangel. "You don't have your blade back yet, and Cas is starting to look really pissed."

Gabriel shrugged. "Aaaah, he usually looks that way. Come on, Dean-o. Let's go win us an ancient weapon."

The tournament had been going on for a couple of hours, and they were down to three dozen players now.

Gail was out on deck, getting some well-earned air. The poker room was pretty stuffy, and David had an unfortunate fondness for smoking cigars. A few of the other men had joined him, and since she'd been playing at their table, she'd eagerly used the opportunity of the break in play to get all the fresh air she could.

When the tournament had begun, a draw had been held to assign various players to the tables, and Gail had started out at the table with two extra players. There were six players assigned to each table, but because they had begun with 50 people, her table had held eight, to begin with. As players were knocked out, the tables were amalgamated. Currently, they had six tables of six going. A new draw was held after every break to redistribute the players, but somehow, Gail always ended up at David's table. She'd remarked on that, and he'd smiled, telling her he wasn't above a little manipulation.

David was playing in his own tournament, and he joked that he didn't like to lose. Gail wasn't so sure that he was joking, but she'd asked him what was going to happen if he did win. The knife that he was offering for First Place sounded intriguing, she told him.

"Now, what would a little lady like you want with a knife like that?" David had said, and Gail had looked at him without comment. She wasn't quite sure what he'd meant by that, but it sounded pretty condescending to her.

"My husband was a collector of antique weapons," Gail replied. "I intend to win, so I can add it to his collection."

David's smile grew. "Well, that's good to hear. I guess that means we'll be playing together for quite a while."

Cas had been at the next table, and he was trying not to let David's flirtations bother him. He'd seen a few men looking at Gail while they'd been playing, ogling her when she leaned forward to put her chips in the centre of their table. They'd talked about that previously, and it seemed to be working, to a certain extent. But he was doing the slow burn, nonetheless.

When break time had been announced, Gail headed directly outside. She took a few deep breaths, and then she heard him, from behind her.

"I'm doing my best to ignore the way that these men are looking at you, but it's very difficult," Cas said softly.

Gail turned around to look at him. "I know, sweetie," she replied. "I'm not too wild about it, myself. But I think the worst offenders are all knocked out, now. There seems to be a direct correlation. I can't imagine why," she added dryly.

He moved closer to her. "And I don't like the way that Farraday individual is looking at you, either."

"Mind your manners, Sir. You're invading my personal space," she quipped.

Cas grabbed her hand, popping them around the corner away from the door that led out to the deck. "Just remember - " he said, and then he kissed her on the mouth.

Suddenly, the bell sounded. The tournament organizers had set up a 5-minute warning system to notify anyone who was out on deck that the break was almost over.

Gail sighed. "We'd better get back. But, just out of curiosity: remember what?"

Cas put his arms around her and kissed her again. It was a really good, long, knee-trembling, clothes-loosening kiss. Wow. Then he broke the kiss, looking down at her. "That," he said. Then he released her and walked around the corner to go back inside.

Gail fanned herself with her hand. Have mercy. She had to hand it to him. No way would she ever be interested in any other man, but now, all she would be able to think about was Cas, and that kiss. And when the hell she could get another one.

She collected herself, smoothed her dress, and went back inside.

The tournament went on, and they were down to 20 players now. They had formed four tables of five players each. Sam had gotten knocked out of the tournament prior to the current break, and he and Gail were at the bar, talking quietly.

David approached them, extending his hand to Sam for a shake. They had been playing at the same table. David was the one who had knocked Sam out of the tournament, enticing him to go all in, and then winning the hand. "You're a good player, Sam," the host said. "I thought you had me, there." Then he looked down at Gail. "May I buy you a drink, Madame Rabajoie?"

"Call me Gail," she told him. "And, sure you can."

David signaled to the bartender, who rushed over. "It's rose wine, isn't it?" Farraday said to her, and she said, "Yes, it is. I'm surprised you would know that."

"I pay attention," he said. "Bring this gentleman another too, please." He looked around the room. "And those three men, standing over there." He pointed to Cas, Dean, and Gabriel. "After all, I'm a billionaire," David added. He winked at Gail, and she laughed.

The five-minute bell sounded just as the bartender was pouring Gail's glass of wine and bringing Sam his beer. David sighed. "I'm afraid that's my cue. We have to draw the next table assignments." He touched Gail's arm. "Just let Neal here know what your friends would like to drink, and he'll make sure to bring them over."

"Thanks. That's really kind of you," she said to him, and David winked again. "Kindness has nothing to do with it," he said, leaning down closer to her. "I'm just trying to show you how generous I can be. In a lot of different ways," he added. Then he walked away.

"Cas is gonna have a cow," Sam remarked to Gail, his lips twitching. "That guy's hitting on you like crazy."

Gail glanced over at her husband, and sure enough, his eyes were following David as the host walked over to the table where the selections were made. She made a face. "Come on, let's take their drinks over there. Maybe if we distract Cas, he'll start looking a little less - " She cut off her sentence abruptly. She'd been about to say something like "murder-y", but then she'd thought better of it. That would be in really poor taste right now, considering. "...jealous," she amended.

Sam finished his beer, grabbing a fresh drink in each hand. Gail asked for a beer for Cas, just to keep up appearances.

"I'm good, but some of these guys are pretty good, too," Gabriel was complaining.

Dean shrugged, smirking. "What can I tell you? Some of us humans are pretty good liars."

"I'm not sure that's anything to be bragging about," Sam said to his brother, handing Dean the beer.

Dean was surprised. "Hey, when I said 'loser buys', I didn't expect you to take it literally."

"I didn't buy it; our host did," Sam said cheerfully.

Gail glared at him. Thanks a lot, Sam.

As Cas's lips pursed, Gabriel said, "Hey, Kitten. How are you doing?"

"Holding my own," she replied.

Gabe nodded. "We see that. And, how are you doing in the tournament?"

Gail elbowed him, hard. "You've been asking for it all night," she said warningly, and Gabriel rubbed the spot where she'd hit him. "Actually, it looks like Farraday's the one who's been doing that," he wisecracked.

Dean's eyes widened. Maybe Gabe should hope they never recovered his blade, 'cause the way they were both looking right now, the first thing either Cas or Gail would probably do was to use it on him.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Gail asked Cas, trying her very best to ignore Gabriel. "Are you cleaning up, as usual?"

He had been glaring at both David and Gabriel, but Cas's expression relaxed a little as he looked at her now. "Up and down," he told his wife. "But, don't worry. I still have a few tricks under my sleeve."

"UP yours, Cas," Sam corrected his friend absently.

Cas raised an eyebrow to him. "Well, that was uncalled for," he said stiffly, and Gail and Dean burst out laughing.

As Sam opened his mouth to explain the misunderstanding, David began to announce the new table assignments. Gail and Cas were finally going to be playing at the same table, and so was Farraday, himself. Cas was frowning again. Was the man orchestrating the draws, so that he could be at the same table as Gail each and every time? Well, at least this time, Cas would be able to keep an eye on him.

Dean and Gabriel were assigned to separate tables, and they headed off now as David came over to join Cas and Gail and two other men at the near table.

"I've heard you're a good player," David said to Cas as they waited for the casino employees to deliver their chips. At the end of every round, when the players got up to stretch their legs and switch tables, their chip count was recorded, and the chips were racked and taken to the cash cage, for security reasons. Now, the players were waiting for their chips to return. The dealers at each table were opening fresh decks of cards too, something that was also repeated at each break. David ran a clean tournament.

"I do all right," Cas said calmly, staring at the man.

David was puzzled. Why was this guy looking at him like that? But then, he thought he understood, a moment later. When Gail received her chips and went to pull a chair out at the table, Cas hurried to pull it out for her. She sat down, thanking him, as David looked on. Ohhh.

"Cas, is it?" David said, seating himself next to Gail.

"It is," Cas said, sitting down on Gail's other side.

"Well, Cas, it's obvious that you're letting the period costumes go to your head," David said affably, sitting back in his chair. "It's been my experience that modern women like to do things for themselves."

"Is that so?" Cas said coolly. "Well, it's been MY experience that a woman of any era likes to be talked TO, and not ABOUT."

Gail's lips were twitching. This was pretty much a first for her. A man on either side of her, being all macho over her. It went against every feminist principle she had. She was loving it. And Round One had definitely gone to her husband.

David thought he had the situation read, now. This guy Cas had designs on the Widow Rabajoie. He obviously wasn't after her money, because every man here had had to produce financials just to enter the tournament. Maybe he just liked her because she was cute, spunky, and available. Those were the reasons that David had taken a shine to her, too. And a bonus feature was that she was wealthy, herself. When you were as rich as David Farraday was, every woman who expressed any interest in you was a potential golddigger. It was easier to meet appropriate women at social events such as this.

In David's opinion, this Cas guy seemed socially awkward. He was good enough looking, but he was obviously trying too hard. "How is your wine?" David said to Gail now. "I'm sorry that all we have is the Queen Anne. If you like champagne, I can open a bottle of Dom for you. I've got a ten-thousand-dollar bottle I've been saving for the right occasion."

Gail had been taking a sip of her wine, and she nearly spat it out. Ten thousand dollars?! For a bottle of champagne? How she wished Dean had been here to hear that. The look on his face would have been priceless.

"Is that Dom Perignon you're referring to?" Cas asked David, prompting their host to smile indulgently. "Of course," David said.

Cas sniffed disdainfully. "Dom Perignon received all the credit, but Dom Augustin's wines were far superior. But, because the Benedictine order he belonged to were strict observers of the Vow of Silence, Dom Augustin could never tell anyone about his creation. I had a taste, though, and it was the better vintage, by far."

David looked at Cas incredulously. Was he kidding with this? The guy was talking as though he'd known those monks personally. Did he really think his imaginative ramblings were going to impress a woman like Gail?

Gail was biting the insides of her cheeks now. Only Cas could sound so arrogant, but be so cute, all at the same time. She had absolutely no doubt that he was telling the complete truth, but David would have no way of knowing that, of course. Their host's expression said it all: he just thought Cas was nuts. This was too funny.

Or at least, it was, until they'd been playing for a while. Then, the situation started to become a little ridiculous. Since David was under the impression that Cas had an unrequited crush on Gail, their host started pouring on his own brand of charm, and Cas was starting to lose his cool. Gail could see the telltale signs. Cas was glaring at Farraday, and his conversation was terse. The men were trying to outdo each other, both in their attentions to Gail, and in the amounts of their bets. David was throwing Cas off his game, and his chip count was starting to go down, as a result.

David had ended up ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon for the table, and while he admitted that it wasn't the ten-thousand-dollar bottle, he'd made it a point to let them know how expensive it was.

"I'm sorry this swill isn't the taste of Heaven that you're used to," David said to Cas sarcastically, "but I hope it'll do." Then he looked at Gail. "Try it," he exhorted her.

She took a sip. What was she supposed to say? It was champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose, but it didn't taste any different to her than any other type of champagne she'd ever tried. Not that she'd had a lot of the stuff. But, still...she couldn't see how it was worth thousands of dollars.

"It's good," she told David, but he frowned. Dammit! He should have gone with the higher-end stuff. A woman like this would know the difference. That Cas guy had gotten under his skin, with the ranting he'd done about a better quality champagne. So, admittedly, David had wanted to show him up. However, Gail would have thought him rude if he didn't share with the table. Southerners prided themselves on their manners. But he hadn't wanted to waste the really good stuff on the men at the table, either.

"I'll tell you what," David said, putting his hand on Gail's arm. "If you're not doing anything at the conclusion of the tournament, why don't I have my driver take us to my place, and then we can share a bottle of the really good stuff?"

Gail removed her arm from under his, under the guise of looking at her hole cards again, but she could see Cas's eyes flash briefly out of the corner of her own. He looked at his hole cards too, and his little finger wiggled briefly. The table that David had set up beside him to hold his drink and his racks of chips tipped over with a crash.

"What the hell?!" David exclaimed. "How did that happen?" He looked at the dealer. "Sorry; we'll have to pause for a minute, while this mess gets cleaned up."

"I think I'll take this opportunity to go freshen up," Gail announced. She started to push her chair back, but Cas was already standing, pulling it out for her. David didn't notice, or comment. He was too busy trying to gather up his chips, and blot the liquor from his pants.

Gail looked at Cas, and he regarded her innocently. She had to bite the insides of her cheeks again. Then, after a moment's consideration, she grabbed her glass of champagne and brought it with her.

Dean saw Gail walk by, and he looked at her inquiringly. She gave him a half-shrug, and kept going until she was out on the deck.

A moment later, Dean was standing at the rail beside her. "I told them I had to take a whiz," he told her. "What's going on over there? I heard a crash. Is Major Buzzkill blowing a gasket?"

"Pretty much," Gail said, nodding. She was smiling now, glad that Dean had come out to talk to her. He was just who she needed to see, right now. She extended her glass to him to take. "Here. Taste this," she said.

Dean looked at her suspiciously, but he grabbed it and took a sip. "OK. So? It's champagne," he stated.

"You just drank about a hundred bucks' worth," she informed him, still smiling.

He looked at the glass in his hand, then at her. "Get outta here."

"I'm not kidding," Gail insisted. "That's a glass of Dom Perignon, the world's second-best champagne. Remind Cas to tell you about the best, sometime. If he doesn't kill our host in the next few minutes, that is." She sighed. "It was kind of fun at first, but it's getting really old now. And the worst part is, Cas is starting to lose, because the guy's throwing him off his game."

"Then you know what you've gotta do," Dean said, handing the glass of champagne back to her after giving it one more incredulous look. "You've got to lose. Cas isn't gonna be able to play right, with you sitting next to that guy. As long as he sees Farraday looking at those...big, brown eyes of yours, that's all he's gonna be able to think about."

"Eyes, huh?" Gail said, smirking. "That reminds me: how's Gabriel doing, do you know? And where's Sam?"

"Gabe? No idea. Sammy went downstairs to watch the auction."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'd better get going. I'll lose a few hands, and then I'll be done. Thanks, Dean," Gail said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Watch it. You'll make your husband jealous. And your boyfriend, too," Dean joked. Gail made a face at him, going back inside.

A couple of hands later, Gail was down to her last thousand dollars, she went all in against Cas and one of the other men. The other guy folded, and Cas sent her a message over their frequency that he was going to fold, too, so she could take the hand. But she told him not to bother. She was tired of playing, and she was tired of David Farraday.

Cas's face broke into a smile at that last comment. To cover, he said, "I'm afraid I may have you, Madame. I hope you won't think I'm ungentlemanly if I take the hand."

She turned over her hole cards. She had two pair. Luckily, Cas had three of a kind. He took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. "It's been a pleasure playing with you this evening," Cas said. "Your husband was a lucky man." His lips brushed her knuckle, and she told him over their frequency that her husband would definitely be a very lucky man later tonight, after this whole thing was over. Cas grinned, and he stood as Gail rose from her seat.

Gail looked at David. "I believe you were trying to give Cas instructions earlier on how we modern women like to be treated," she told him. She gestured to her husband. "THAT'S how. Good luck with your tournament." Then she walked away from the table. She looked around the room. Dean was still playing. He looked up, giving her a wink as she walked by his table. Sam and Gabriel were standing at the bar talking, so she headed over there.

"You too?" Gabe said as she approached.

Gail nodded. "Yep." She nudged him. "Hey, what happened to your 'superior skills'?"

He grimaced. "Guy at my table bluffed every hand. Every. Damn. Hand. So, I went all in to clean him out, and he winked at me. Turns out, he had a full house! First time all night he's had anything!" Gabriel fumed.

Sam was grinning. "Sounds like he's a Trickster-in-training. Or maybe he just has a crush on you, and that's why he winked at you."

Gabe looked startled for a moment, and then he shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? I'm irresistible. Right, Kitten?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Yet somehow, I manage," she quipped.

"How's Cas doing?" Sam asked her.

"Better, I'm sure, now that our host isn't creeping on me anymore," she replied. "I notice Dean's still hanging in there."

"I think he's just about done," Gabriel remarked. "When I left my table, I noticed he had a short stack." He waggled an eyebrow. "Make of that whatever you want."

Gail laughed. "Buy me a drink, Brother," she said, poking him playfully.

"I don't know if I'd do that, if I were you," Dean said from behind Gail. "She drinks thousand-dollar champagne, now."

She turned around. "Are you out?"

"Yeah," Dean said, frowning. "Looks like Cas is our last hope."

"Let's start planning the heist now," Gabriel wisecracked.

But Cas had been making a comeback, and soon, the tournament was winnowed down to one table. Many of the players gathered around to watch as Cas knocked out two other men. It was down to just three players now, and the next hand knocked the third man out.

It was every movie cliche in the book: now it was down to David and Cas, and the two men played for another ten minutes or so, with no resolution.

David offered to hold a break from play, but Cas shook his head, saying he didn't need one. They played on. The hands went back and forth, with thousands of dollars on the table.

Suddenly, a bell sounded, and David frowned. "That's all the time we're allotted," he announced. "We'll have the cashiers count up the chips, and then we'll announce which of us has won." He extended his hand to Cas, who shook it. "You play a good game." David's eyes shifted to Gail, who was standing behind Cas now. "To the victor go the spoils." Then he got up from his chair. "I'll be back in a few minutes, once the chip count is verified." Then he walked away.

Gail was seething. "'To the victor go the spoils'," she imitated David, sneering. "I'll spoil HIM. Condescending jerk."

Cas smiled. He stood, resisting the urge to put his arm around his wife. He was pretty sure he'd eked out First Place, but until that was confirmed and the blade was in his possession, he thought they should continue the ruse.

But Gail felt no such inhibition. She put her arms around his neck. "Win or lose, you and I have a date, later," she said to him. "I've decided to go home with you, because you really know how to treat a woman." She stretched up to kiss him on the lips. They smiled at each other for a moment, and then Cas kissed her on the mouth, telling her over their frequency that he loved her very much.

It had been close, but Cas won the tournament, by a couple of hundred dollars. David made the announcement, and everyone applauded.

"When may I collect my prize?" Cas asked Farraday. He had his arm around Gail's waist now. He'd ceased to care what the man thought.

David was scowling, but he hadn't become a billionaire by pouting like a child when something didn't go his way. So he'd lost out to a geek. That happened, sometimes. There was no accounting for certain womens' tastes. Oh, well. Her loss. "Come to my office tomorrow morning," he said to Cas. "You can pick it up there."

"Why can't we see it now?" Gabriel blurted out, and David looked at him calmly. "It's much too valuable an artifact," the billionaire stated. "It's under lock and key in my executive office." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a business card, which he handed to Cas. "Anytime after 9 a.m." David looked at the people gathered around. "We still have to do the final tally, but y'all should be proud. You've helped a lot of sick children tonight. Bottom line is, that's what it's all about. So, congratulations." Then he turned and left the room.

Gail rolled her eyes. "Just when I'd started to really hate him, he had to go and say something like that."

The boat docked shortly thereafter, and when the five of them were back on land and out of sight, Gabriel turned to the Winchesters. "I just wanted to thank you guys for showing up for me today. I really appreciate it." He stuck out his hand for each of them to shake. Sam almost felt like he should check to see if there was a joy buzzer or a thumbtack in Gabriel's hand. But he shook with the Archangel, and so did Dean.

"Even though you both lost," Gabe added, and the brothers nodded. Now, THAT was more familiar ground.

"Ummm...so did you," Gail pointed out dryly.

"No, I didn't," Gabriel answered with a straight face. "I had a blast. And tomorrow, I get my blade back. That's a win-win, in my book." Then he smirked. "And, I got to see you in that dress. So, technically, that's a win-win, win-win." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I'll meet you back here at nine-ish. You lucky bastard." Then he snapped his fingers and vanished.

Cas smiled. "Gail and I will take you home," he said to Sam and Dean. They winked the brothers back to the bunker, echoing Gabriel's thanks.

Then Cas asked Gail to wait there for a moment. He disappeared, and then a minute or two later, he reappeared with one of their suitcases in hand. "There's a lovely hotel in Memphis, near Farraday's office," Cas told his wife. "I thought we might stay there overnight."

"Wow, you're a fast worker," Gail quipped. She took Cas's hand. "Goodnight, you guys. We'll bring our costumes back tomorrow."

The Angels popped out, and the Winchesters shook their heads, smiling. It had been a fun night. But then, Sam's smile faded. Dean recognized that look. His brother was feeling guilty for having had such a good time so soon after Quinn's death. "Come on, Sammy. Let's have a nightcap," he said with compassion.

"Now I understand what you were talking about," Cas said to Gail. He was kissing her neck, working his way down to her bosom. "It WAS hot, pretending we weren't married. I felt like I was wooing you all over again."

"Told'ja," she said pertly. She held his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Feel free to woo me as much as you want."

Cas was licking her neck now, slipping the dress off her shoulders. "Gabriel is right. I'm very lucky," he told her.

"So am I," she said, smiling.

"All of those men were admiring how beautiful you are," he said, lifting the dress with one hand and pulling her underwear down. "But I'm the only one who can make love to you."

"That's right," she confirmed, but that was all she had the breath for, because he had already undone his pants and was pushing into her now. They both cried out almost immediately. Then he kissed her on the mouth. "Please, call me your husband," Cas said, and she smiled again. They could playact from time to time, but she knew that was what he liked the best. So she did, and he whimpered.

They made love all night, and then they showered and dressed in the morning. Cas took their costumes and suitcase over to the bunker, and then he and Gail popped over to the pier to meet Gabriel.

"That's not my blade," Gabe muttered between clenched teeth.

He couldn't believe it. They'd gone through all that, and it wasn't even his damn blade?!

But, wait: it was an important one, though. As David unlocked the glass box he'd been keeping it in, Gabe could feel the power emanating from the thing.

So could Cas. He squinted closer at the markings on the blade, looking sideways at Gabriel.

Gail was mystified. She was sitting beside the two of them, across the desk from David Farraday. He'd looked taken aback when all three of them had walked in together.

"I've decided to gift the blade to Monsieur Rabajoie's collection," Cas had told the man. "Since it is a priceless artifact, we are here with his widow to provide security for her, until it is safely on display."

Huh. Well, David supposed that was one way to get into a wealthy woman's pants. He'd ceased to care. He had already moved on last night, with the help of a very willing patron.

David took the top off the glass case and showed them the knife. "Isn't it magnificent?" he asked the trio rhetorically.

Gabriel just about fell off his chair. The power emanating from the blade felt like a typhoon. Now, Gail could feel it, too. To her, it felt like a peculiar mixture of fire and ice.

Cas just stared at the blade, open-mouthed. He was awestruck by the power he felt coming from the object, like wave upon wave of celestial intent. Whose blade could this possibly be? Written in the ancient language on the hilt was one word: "BAKTIOTHA". He reached out to touch the knife, but David replaced the glass cover, and perhaps that was just as well. Gabriel and Gail each let out a breath, and Cas's hand dropped.

"Thank you for supporting my charity," David said to them. He handed the glass case containing the blade to Gail, and it felt warm in her hands. The Angels stood and left his office.

"So, whose blade IS it, then?" Dean said in a bewildered tone when Cas called him shortly thereafter to tell him the news.

"We don't know, Dean," his Angel friend said. "It's another mystery we need to solve. What are your plans, now? Are you and Sam going back on the road?"

"Let's talk about that," Dean said, keeping his fingers crossed.


	3. Valhalla

Chapter 3 - Valhalla

It hadn't taken as much cajoling as Dean had thought it might. Once again, the Angels were in a bit of a holding pattern. Cas had locked the blade away in his office in Heaven until they could figure out whose it was, and what powers it held. Apparently, there was no Book of the Dead to find after all, but Kevin and Emma were still working hard on the translations anyway. There was still the Book of Life to find, assuming that particular tome existed, of course. They also had to figure out how to locate their enemies, and how to kill them, once they did. The files from Cathy Scanlon's office had turned out to be a dead end, too. The night that Dean had discovered Quinn's dead body, Gail and her younger brothers had tried their level best to identify which of Vincent's children had died in the blast. But ultimately, what good did that do? They still had no idea how many others were out there, who they were, and where they could be found. Cas had not emphasized the point, because he was still of the belief that those people would all have to die. But there was no need to have that argument now, since they had no clue how to identify the individuals, anyway.

In short, there were many goals, but no clear missions for the Angels at the moment. Dean had appealed to Cas that Nicole would be very happy if he and Gail came with him and Sam to the Supernatural convention in Vancouver, and maybe watch a little filming for the upcoming movie, too. Then Gail got on the bandwagon, telling Cas she would like to attend at least one Supernatural convention from which she could come out alive at the end of the weekend. Cas had frowned at that, but he understood her propensity for jokes about those types of things by now. So he had sighed, and said that if it meant that much to them, he would agree to attend.

Gail and Dean had exchanged smiles. Like Cas had had a choice. Besides, they were sure that once he got there, he would start to enjoy himself. Because filming for the movie was going to begin in Vancouver, Cas would be able to catch up with many of his old acquaintances from the show, who would also be visiting the set. And, as an added bonus, Gail told him, she was going to call Barry and arrange to get together with him and Tommy when they were all there. Cas brightened at that. As busy as they'd been, they hadn't been able to see their dear friends in quite some time.

Barry was delighted to hear from Gail, but he was also dismayed. "Of all weekends, why did it have to be this one?" he lamented. "Tommy and I are packing, to go to Calgary! One of his best buddies from his reporter days is getting married on Saturday. We're flying out Friday morning, and we're coming back on Sunday. Carolyn's going to babysit Ilene for the weekend. Tommy and I haven't done anything as a couple since we adopted her. Not that I'm complaining about that, but...hey, I'll tell you what: did you say you're at that convention all weekend?"

"We hadn't really discussed it, but I think that's supposed to be the idea, yes," Gail replied. "We're even staying at the hotel where it's at. And it's a good thing we're all millionaires now, 'cause the place sure isn't cheap!"

"What hotel is it?" Barry asked. She told him, and he whistled. "Boy, you're not kidding about that. Why don't you just have Cas dust off the old two-finger system, then?" he joked.

"He's way too ethical for that," she responded, smiling widely. "Besides, I can do that now too, you know. Assuming I can reach the person's forehead, that is. It kind of defeats the element of surprise when you have to ask them to bend down, first."

Barry laughed. Then, his tone turned serious. "How is everyone there, Gail? How are Frank and Jody? We Skype with them, sometimes. She looks tired, and once in a while, she forgets our names."

Gail was silent for a moment. Then she sighed wearily. "I know, Barry. Same with us. She's doing the best she can, and so are Frank and the boys."

"Angela's turning out to be a real cutie-pie, though," Barry said in a brighter tone. "I'm looking forward to her and Peter reuniting at Christmastime. They kind of grew up together, in a way. Carolyn jokes that maybe the two of them will get together when they get older, and be you and Cas, 2.0. Unless one or both of them wants to join mine and Tommy's team, of course. There's lots of love to go around in the gay community, too. Whatever the kids want to be is just fine with us. I can't wait for everybody to meet Ilene. She's still a little too young to build a snowman, but she can sit in her snowsuit and play, anyway. And I'll help you with the turkey, of course."

"Help me? You mean, you'll cook it, and I'll take all the credit," Gail quipped. "Why ruin a perfectly good tradition?"

"How's Sam doing? Did they find out anything about who might have killed Quinn?" Barry asked her then.

Gail sighed again. "No. They finally released her body to her aunt, and took the crime scene tape off at the house. Sam's police contact said they interviewed all her neighbours, but nobody saw anything. Apparently, she didn't really have any friends. She wasn't even really close with her family. The cop said her aunt was a real 'piece of work', as he called it. I don't know what that means, exactly. But to answer your question, Sam's doing OK. I think this convention will help. I'm going to try to make sure he has some fun. Then he and Dean are going to go back out on the road for a while afterwards. Dean says that killing monsters is great therapy. What a weird family we have."

Barry laughed. "Weird, and wonderful. Give everybody our love, and..." He paused. "No. I don't want to wait until Christmas to see you guys. How about if Tommy and I come downtown Sunday night? We'll take the train. We can all have dinner together, after the convention wraps up. I'll check with Tommy, of course, but I already know what he'll say. We've missed you guys too much not to make this work. We'll owe Carolyn for the extra day of babysitting, but that's okay. I'm sure she won't mind too much. She's always saying we don't see you guys often enough. And she's right. OK; that settles it. Dinner, Sunday night."

Gail told the Winchesters and Cas about their conversation, and now, they all had something else to look forward to. It was going to be a great weekend.

FRIDAY - MY SEPARATE REALITY

Cas had brought Dean to Nicole's apartment on Thursday, so that the couple could have an opportunity for some time alone together before things got really busy. She was going to try to squeeze in as much socializing as possible, but it was still a working weekend for Nicole.

They were snuggling on the couch, and Nicole had been asking about Jody and Quinn. It was unbelievable to Nicole that they had all suffered such devastating blows, nearly back-to-back.

"How's Jody doing?" Nicole asked her boyfriend, and Dean frowned. "The same," he replied tersely.

"And Sam? How's he holding up?" she persisted. "Do the police have any leads?"

"Nope," Dean said, taking a drink from his beer bottle.

Nicole had been pretty freaked out by that whole thing. Quinn was a woman who'd lived alone, who had been viciously attacked. Nicole was a woman who lived alone, too. She pulled Dean's arms tighter around her. "There's no way that...?" she started to say.

Dean put his beer down and tilted Nicole's chin up so that he could look at her face. "What?" he said softly.

Nicole swallowed. "There's no way that Quinn's murder could have anything to do with you guys and what you do, could it?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Believe me, I looked for any of the usual signs. Cas did, too. It was just an ordinary murder, plain and simple." Then Dean realized how that sounded, and he sighed. "You know what I mean. Actually, Sammy's guy says the cops are now thinking it was a robbery, gone wrong. The house was dark, and Quinn might have surprised the guy." Dean wasn't really sure he bought that theory. He and Cas had discussed it before Cas had brought his friend here, and they both agreed that the overkill tactic the assailant had used hadn't looked like a burglary type of situation. But unless and until the police came up with a better premise, that was the one they were going with. Dean wasn't about to describe to Nicole in gory detail what Quinn's body had looked like, though. His girlfriend was freaked out enough, as it was. If Dean honestly thought that there was any danger to Nicole, he would do something about it. But he firmly believed that Quinn's murder, though tragic and horrifying, had been a one-off.

Dean and Nicole spent a very good night together, and then Cas, Gail and Sam came to Nicole's place for breakfast the next morning. She had to get to the set, and the others were going to go check into the downtown hotel and then go to the first day's events at the convention.

The humans ate while the Angels kept them company, talking about the upcoming weekend. Topics that included death and dying were off limits, by tacit agreement. Well, except for potential plotlines in the upcoming movie, of course. Gail's character was going to get her back story, introducing Frank as a character to the franchise, going forward. Gail would be very pleased with the way Chuck had written her and her brother's reunion, Nicole stated, and the way they were with each other. Nothing was said about Jody or her condition. No one really had the heart to bring the subject up. Gail had previously asked Laurel to tell Chuck to please include Frank and Jody's romance, so hopefully he had done that. They would just have to wait and see.

But this was a weekend for fun. To try and put some of the heartache they'd been feeling aside. Cas transported Nicole to the set, after she and Dean shared a long, lingering kiss, and Gail waved her hands and cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Nicole joked that she should really start praying more, if Angel Uber and Angel Housekeeping were going to be the result. She said she would see them all later, and they arranged to meet up at dinnertime. The shoot was scheduled to take place all day, and into the evening.

Then Cas and Gail winked the Winchesters to their hotel, to begin their weekend.

Yolanda was behind the four of them in line, and she was astonished. Those guys looked amazing. The guy who resembled Cas even had a short little wife, like the one they'd introduced in the last movie. Yolanda and her online friends didn't know what to make of the Gail character, yet. They'd actually thought she was going to be killed off in the last movie. The show had this habit of killing female characters, especially those who became romantically involved with one of the main characters. Yolanda could understand why. The show's creators weren't stupid. They knew that the vast majority of their audience were women, and a large subset of those women were young girls. The show had been on for years now, but the younger ones had binge-watched the show from the very beginning, all the way up to the current timeline. The first two movies were also available for streaming. As was traditional, friendships and alliances were formed on social media. There were Sam Girls, Dean Girls, and Cas Girls, and there were Wincest and Destiel groups. There were smaller subsets of those groups, too. There were those who wanted the show to only feature the brothers, saying the other, "secondary" characters were unnecessary. And then, there were others, who would refuse to watch any show that Cas was not on.

Gail had known about most of these factions from before, when she had dipped her toe into the sometimes dangerous waters of fan fiction, and chat rooms about the show. But before they had come here for the weekend, she had done a bit more research into the present mindset of some of the fans, so she would be prepared for the convention. But the results had been inconclusive.

"I get the idea of these conventions," she was saying to the men now, as they waited to check in. "They're a way for people who like the show and only correspond online to have a chance to meet face to face, and bond over it. I understand that. But what I don't get is why some of those online groups are so mean to other ones. This is supposed to be a 'family', from everything I've read."

"Do you know of any families where that kind of crap doesn't go on?" Dean pointed out. "'Cause I don't."

Gail paused. OK, he kind of had a point, there. "But I also don't understand Wincest, or Destiel. I mean, what's that all about? I asked about that on one of those FaceSpace chat groups, and you know what they did? They kicked me out! And, they didn't even answer my question!"

The men all shook their heads. Frankly, none of them could understand it, either.

"I don't get it, either," Yolanda piped up. They all looked at her, and she blushed a little. That guy really did look like..."Dean would never do anything like that," she continued. "He likes women."

"You're damn right, he does," Dean said happily. "And women like him, too."

"Exactly," Yolanda replied. "There's no way. And Castiel has never expressed any interest in that kind of thing, and now, of course, they've got him married off. Sam, on the other hand? I could maybe see him being gay, but not with either of them. Gabriel, maybe. You see that 'ship a lot on the fan fiction sites."

Dean was grinning from ear to ear now, and so was Gail. If this was any indication, it was going to be a fun weekend.

Then they were called up to the Front Desk, and then they were gone. Yolanda stared after them. They'd seemed like nice people, although it sounded like they were a little new to this whole convention thing. Yolanda, on the other hand, was a seasoned veteran. It was a good thing her father was very rich. That was how she was able to traipse around North America, attending all these conventions. She'd even gone to a few in Europe. Yolanda's dad was never home, anyway; he was on the road for business, most of the time. They Skyped and stuff, and he sent money to her bank account regularly. He knew that she was a big fan of the show, and her dad was very supportive of his girl. If it made Yolie happy, he was all for it. She had always been an introvert, especially after her mother had died. If he had to be away so much, providing a financial future for his daughter, at least he had the comfort of knowing that she had a hobby, where she was making friends.

But what Yolanda's father didn't realize was how far gone she was. An interest had turned into a hobby and then turned into an obsession. The more conventions she attended, the more her obsession was fed. It was just one of those things, and it was no one's fault, really. Most of the people in her position were happy, well-adjusted fans of the show, who the stars enjoyed interacting with. And Yolanda was no exception, as far as they knew. If there was something a little left-of-centre about her, it wasn't enough to raise any red flags. Many people who followed the show were very unique individuals, and they were told that was a quality to be embraced. Celebrated, even.

So, as the celebrities began to see Yolanda at convention after convention, they would smile and greet her by name, and joke around with her. This made her feel special. There was no one at home to make her feel that way.

As her obsession grew, Yolie had begun to develop an infatuation for the actor who played Dean. He seemed so nice, in real life. Actually, all of them did. But he was so handsome, and his character was so brave. The first time she'd had a photo op with him, she had been so overwhelmed with emotion that she'd stammered something incoherently, and then started to shake. He had taken her by the hand, telling her that it was okay, and in that moment, Yolie had fallen in love. He was so kind, and so sweet. They had taken their photo together, and he had given her a gentle hug. Then they'd made her leave, and Yolanda had burst into tears. One of the volunteers had taken her aside and comforted her, but Yolanda had been so embarrassed that she had fled the photo op room and gone to hide out in the bathroom. And later, when she'd picked up her picture, she had looked terrible in it, but the actor looked very handsome, and he looked so happy to be taking a picture with her. He even had his arm around her. She hadn't realized. It had all happened so fast, and she had been so freaked out.

But that was then, and this was now. A lot of time and dozens of conventions later, Yolanda was much more confident. She brought her cutest clothes and did her hair and makeup before every photo op, and she walked in there smiling. The guys knew her by now, and they all made her feel welcome.

Yolanda could tell that a lot of the other girls had begun to hate her. She could see them staring at her in the hallways, and the auditorium. She knew that they were talking about her behind her back. But she didn't care. He loved her. She knew he did. Those other girls were just jealous of their special relationship. The way he smiled at her was different from the way that he smiled at the other ones. But, they were all just jealous bitches. Some of the comments that Yolie had received on social media had been so mean that she'd started deleting people. She had been hurt, at first. Weren't they all supposed to be a family? When she went to visit the guys on the set and posted behind-the-scenes pictures and selfies, when she was lucky enough to get them, Yolanda figured she was doing her fellow fans a favour. There were lots of other people who weren't lucky enough to live in the city where the show had originated. Now that the movies were being filmed in some exotic locations, she didn't see them around town that much anymore, which made the conventions that much more important.

But, many of Yolie's followers had turned on her, recently. They said she was a weirdo, and a stalker. Some of them even said she was delusional. Wow. They had their nerve. She had seen pictures that some of those girls had posted, pictures of half-eaten food plates at restaurants that they'd said were leftovers from meals that the stars had eaten. Now, THAT was weird. And Yolanda had seen girls smell the guys during photo ops, or grab their butts. Talk about inappropriate. Yet, they had the nerve to criticize her.

Well, it didn't matter. She was here now, in their home town, checking into the same hotel where they were probably staying. She was going to buy a few things in the vendors' area, and then she was going to head over to the location of the filming. It was going to be a great weekend.

Yolie went upstairs and put her clothes away, so they wouldn't get wrinkled. Then she opened the safe and put her dad's gun in it. She was still undecided about whether she was going to need it, or not. But it was only Friday morning now. She had the whole weekend ahead of her, yet. She grabbed her purse, checked the envelope with her American money in it for the vendors room, and took the elevator downstairs.

Gail didn't bother to unpack, but she did open the sliding door of the small terrace outside their room. The view was spectacular. Their room overlooked the waterfront area where a bunch of yachts were moored, and she could see the mountains in the background.

"Come here and look at the view," she said to Cas. He stepped outside and came to the railing, putting an arm around her waist and inhaling the fresh air.

"Does this count as ocean air?" Gail said mischievously, remembering their stay in the Caribbean.

"I would say so," Cas said lightly. He kissed her on the forehead. "I wish we had time to test out the theory, but we have to meet Sam and Dean downstairs. And, the stage show starts in about half an hour."

Gail sighed. He was right. Oh, well. They had all weekend.

The four of them met back down in the lobby and got their wristbands for entry into the auditorium. Sam had a schedule for the weekend's events downloaded onto his phone, and he told them that the day's stage show was mainly going to consist of supporting actors, some live music, and autographs.

"That's good, because we're supposed to meet Nicole for an early dinner, anyway," Dean said.

As they moved into the retail area, Gail looked around, amazed. This was much bigger than she'd remembered. Of course, they had a very successful movie franchise now, and everybody was jumping on the bandwagon.

She grabbed Cas by the hand and led him around to the displays, as the brothers trailed behind the couple, bemused. There were mugs, T-shirts, and pillows and blankets with their counterparts' faces on them. Gail bought some of each, saying they were going to be Christmas presents.

Then they got to the action figures, and Gail's face fell. She'd really been hoping that they would have some of Frank's character. But they were just beginning to shoot the movie where he was going to be introduced, so she guessed it was too soon. Dean told her he would ask Nicole if she could get some advance editions, like she'd done the last time.

By the time Gail had bought everything she wanted and loaded Cas down with the bags, it was almost time for the stage show. "I will take these things to our house, and then I'll be right back," Cas told her, and he looked at the Winchesters. "Stay with her, please." Then he walked off, as she and the brothers smiled at each other. It had been a number of years, but that was the sort of thing you never really forgot.

"Come on, Mrs. Buzzkill," Dean said. "We'll be your bodyguards."

They walked into the auditorium and found their seats, leaving one between Dean and Gail empty for Cas. The show started, and one of the hosts was an actor who had directed a few episodes of the show in the past. "And you'll be seeing me on the big screen soon, too," he told everyone. "I'm not allowed to say too much about it yet, but I'm hoping you'll all be very happy with the storyline."

The three of them glanced at each other, puzzled, as Cas joined them. Who could he possibly have been referring to? But then, the actor started to do a comedy routine, and Gail smiled, nodding her head. Gabriel. She was sure of it. She couldn't wait to see Chuck, and confirm if that was the case. Then, if it was, she couldn't wait to tell Gabriel.

There were appearances by a few of the actors, then some live music, and by then, it was getting later in the afternoon. Dean called Nicole to find out if it was okay for them to come to the filming location. She said it was fine, and if Cas and Gail wanted to pop Sam and Dean over, they could do so in her trailer, so they wouldn't be seen.

They emerged from Nicole's trailer a few minutes later, then walked over to the area where the scene was being shot. It was late fall, so it was almost full dark when they got there. But Nicole had been watching out for them, and she approached the quartet now, accompanied by a familiar face.

"Cas! Hey man, how's it hanging?" Syd said, extending his hand for a shake.

"How are you, Syd? It's good to see you again," Cas said affably.

"A bunch of us are going for a drink at the pub around the corner," Syd told him. "Do you wanna come?"

"You might as well go, if you want," Nicole said to the group. She sighed. "We were supposed to break for dinner, but they have to do a couple of re-takes. It's probably going to be at least another hour till I'm free to leave."

"Why don't you guys go ahead?" Gail said, giving Cas a kiss on the cheek. "I think I'll stay here. I want to watch a bit of the filming." She smiled at Nicole. "Am 'I' in the scene?"

"All four of you are," Nicole confirmed. She rolled her eyes. "That's why they're having to do re-takes. The guys are bad enough, but she screws around just as much." She looked at Gail sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Now this, I've gotta see," Gail said gleefully. "You guys go ahead."

"Are you certain?" Cas said uneasily, but she was making shooing motions now. "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here. I don't want your buddies thinking I'm the old ball and chain. Go."

So the men walked away, and Gail stood there, waiting for them to begin filming the scene. Nicole left, to check on the actors' wardrobe and makeup.

A few minutes later, a man who was wearing a bright yellow vest approached Gail. "Uh...you can't stand there," he told her.

She looked at him, puzzled. That was strange. Nicole hadn't said anything about that. "Okie-dokie. Where should I stand, then?"

"Over here," he said, herding her over to the street corner. There were a couple of dozen girls huddled there, most of whom were very young.

"Oh my God, Ollie," one of them said to the man in the vest. "I'm freezing! When are they going to start?"

"Soon," he assured her, waggling what appeared to be a radio in his hand. "I'm just waiting to get the green light. Hey, just think how I feel. I've had to stand out here all day, in the cold. Where's MY sympathy?"

A young girl threaded through the crowd, handing Ollie a styrofoam cup. "I got you a hot chocolate, with extra sprinkles," she said to the man, who took the cup from her with a broad smile. For a moment, Gail was reminded of Athena, bringing Hakeem his dipper of cold water in the marketplace. Ollie took a sip, then smacked his lips appreciatively. "See, ladies?" he said to the group. "THAT'S how you win friends, and influence people."

Gail was regarding Ollie now. He wore a beard, and there was grey in it. He was obviously considerably older than many of these young fans. She hoped he wasn't using his position of authority here, such as it was, to take advantage of them.

Yolanda was rolling her eyes. She knew that Ollie was taking advantage of some of the more gullible ones. He was a perv, in her opinion. He liked to creep on young girls, giving them the impression that he might be able to arrange more access to the stars of the show, if the girls were "nice" to him. He'd tried that on Yolanda, but she had ignored him. Yeah, right. SHE probably had more access to them than HE did.

Gail had a light coat on, but the night was getting chilly now, and there was still no sign of activity. Maybe she should have just gone with her guys. But she'd wanted to see the actress who played her character do some filming.

"Have you been here very long? Have you had a chance to see any of the filming?" Gail asked some of the young women who were gathered there. Most of them ignored her altogether, while a few others looked at her with blank expressions, as if she was so insignificant that she didn't even deserve acknowledgement.

Gail sighed. She thought she knew what was going on, here. Nicole had explained the phenomenon to her before. To these young girls, Gail could be perceived as being a "threat". She had been puzzled by the concept.

"A threat to...what?" Gail had asked their friend.

"I know, right?" Nicole had replied. "There's nothing TO threaten. These men, the actors? They're all older men, with wives and children. What exactly do those girls think is going to happen?"

Gail was looking at the faces of those fans now, and she was pretty sure she knew the answer to that question. Many of them probably thought that one of the men was going to look over here and make a beeline over to the crowd, pick them up like that scene from An Officer And A Gentleman, and say something really hokey like "I've been waiting for you, for all my life"? Or, "It's been you, all along!", or something equally as cliche. In other words, something that only the real Cas could say, and get away with. Gail was trying not to laugh now. As if.

Meanwhile, Ollie was chatting up the young fans again. More of them had gathered, now. They had probably found out on social media where the filming was taking place. Because there were more and more people crowding into the area where Ollie had told them to gather, they had started to "bleed" outside it.

"Now, now, ladies," he said loudly. "You know how these things work. Everything to the right of the curb is the DMZ."

"Isn't that one of those tabloid shows?" Gail quipped, and he regarded her balefully.

"That's TMZ," Ollie said snottily, the poster child of condescension. "A DMZ is a demilitarized zone."

"I know what - " she began to say, but he had already turned away from her to flirt with the young girls again. Wow, Gail thought, rolling her eyes. This guy was a sexual assault charge just waiting to happen. She attempted to talk to some of the new arrivals, but none of them seemed to want anything to do with her, either. This was getting ridiculous. Oh, well. As the would-be spectators crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, Gail told herself to cheer up: at least she wouldn't freeze, with all these bodies keeping her warm. All of these snobby, rude, condescending bodies.

"Excuse me," Cas said from behind Gail, and the girls gasped and squealed. Suddenly, they moved to either side of Gail to let him, Sam, and Dean through. She wondered if this was what Moses must have felt like, but then she remembered: Cas had told her and Rob that Moses had only been a character in the Bible, not a real person.

Kind of like her guys, in this situation. But it was dark now, and the spectators had waited a long time in the cold for three tall guys who looked very much like these ones did.

"What are you doing, standing out here in the cold?" Cas asked Gail, taking her hands in his and rubbing them. "Syd said he expected you to be waiting for us inside the building." He nodded his head, indicating the place across the street. "Come on; come with us."

Ollie was looking at them all, open-mouthed. He was fooled, too. Despite what he led the young fans to believe, he didn't know the stars personally. He'd never even seen them at close quarters before. But, he did know what they looked like. He had the Internet on his computer.

"Move aside and let them through, ladies," Ollie said, all brisk and businesslike now.

"But if they move aside, they'll be in the DMZ," Gail couldn't resist saying.

"The DMZ? Isn't that a tabloid talk show?" Sam joked.

Ollie laughed and laughed, as if that was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Gail glared at the man, wondering if Cas had his blade on him.

"Do you have a minute, before you have to go inside?" one of the girls asked Dean. "We've been out here for hours."

Aw, geez, Dean thought. What the hell was he supposed to say about that? "We'll see," he said noncommittally. The young girl was a little taken aback. She'd heard that these guys were nice. Maybe they were just running late from their break, or something.

Yolanda knew that Dean wasn't the actor she loved. She smiled to herself smugly. And they called themselves true fans. She stepped aside to let the group pass by. Obviously, these were the stand-ins for the actors.

"Have a good night," Ollie said to Gail. Now that most of the fans who were gathered thought she might be the actress who played herself in the movie, they were smiling at Gail, telling her that they were glad her character hadn't been killed off. Wow. What a bunch of hypocrites.

But that was okay; Gail was going to try not to let that spoil her weekend. She took Cas's hand, crossing the street with her group, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at Ollie and the girls on the way.

SATURDAY - I KNOW HIM SO WELL

Yolanda awoke in her hotel room on Saturday morning, bundled up in every blanket the room had. She and a handful of diehards had waited until about one a.m. last night, but none of the actors had come out. She'd been disappointed, but Yolie wasn't overly concerned. That happened, sometimes. It was a convention weekend, after all.

Today was the calm before the storm. There were a lot of fun activities at the convention today, and the actor who played Cas did his stage show on Saturdays. The woman who played Gail was supposed to do a panel, too. Yolie was kind of interested in checking that one out, because that actress was new to a lot of the fans, and she might have some interesting behind-the-scenes stories to tell.

Sunday was the big day for Yolanda. She was already getting excited. She would be seeing him pretty much all day long, from the morning panel, through the photo ops and meet and greet, to the autographs at the close of the convention. And depending on how the day went, Yolie would then decide what her next move would be.

But right now, it was time to enjoy herself. She hopped out of bed and headed for the shower.

The organizers of the convention ran a trivia contest in-between panels, and Gail roped Sam, Dean, and Cas into playing the game with her. The brothers rolled their eyes, but they obediently got up on stage with her and Cas. There were a couple of dozen people at first, standing on risers, like a choir. They were all handed one blue card that said "Yes", and one red card that said "No". They would all be asked a question from the Supernatural TV series, books, or movies. As soon as the question was asked, they would have to immediately hold up one card or the other. If they got it right, they could stay, to answer further questions. But if they got it wrong, they would have to leave the stage. This would go on until there were only two players remaining, taking First and Second place.

"This is stupid," Dean muttered, as they gave him the cards. "How the hell are we supposed to know the answers to all these questions?"

Gail looked at him incredulously. "Are you kidding? Who better to know the answers to the questions than the guys this whole thing was based on, in the first place?"

Sam grinned. "She's right, Dean," he said. "Who better?" This was actually pretty funny. Any time any of them called each other by their names, the people here at the convention would give them the once-over, and then they would nod knowingly. "Great cosplay," they would comment, and then that would be that.

Dean sighed. How did he let her talk him into these things? But he was here now, so he might as well try to win.

The first few questions were easy. Even Gail knew the answers. She had seen many of the older TV shows, by now. Admittedly, she had never read the books, but the TV shows were modelled after them, so she felt fairly confident. But then, the questions got harder. They asked about the Marine regiment that John Winchester had belonged to, naming a division. Gail had no clue; that had been way before she'd met the brothers, of course, and they seldom talked about their father. But, since she had a 50/50 shot, she held up the YES card, but the correct answer had been NO. The question had given the wrong regiment. Dammit! Oh, well. She couldn't feel too badly about missing that one. At least it hadn't been a question about Cas, she thought with amusement. That would have been really embarrassing.

Sam and Dean had gotten that one right, of course, as had Cas. Gail made her way back to her seat to watch. A few more people got knocked out, and then a question was put to the people remaining in the contest about whether a certain Led Zeppelin song was on a particular album. Dean's face broke into a grin. "Awww, come on. Give us a hard one!" he crowed, flipping up the correct card. He'd kind of gotten into this, now. There was no way any of these people was gonna know more than Dean did about his own life.

Cas showed the right card too, but Sam did not. "Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me!" Dean exclaimed, as the host told Sam to turn in his cards and leave the stage.

"Most of the time, I just tune it out," Sam told his brother, shrugging. "All those songs sound alike to me, anyway."

"How dare you?!" Dean said indignantly, as Sam looked at Cas. "How did YOU know that?" the younger Winchester asked the Angel.

Cas regarded him calmly. "After this many years of riding in that car, every song is seared into my brain, Sam."

"I think that's what they were going to call their last album: 'Seared Into My Brain'!" Gail called out delightedly. She couldn't help it. This was just too funny.

As the people in the audience laughed, Sam came down to join Gail in their seats. There were a couple more questions, and then Cas got knocked out on a question about a monster hunt that Sam and Dean had been on before Cas had met them. "See, THAT, I knew," Sam groused as Cas came to join them.

Finally, it was down to Dean and two women. He was smugly confident. The questions were getting really difficult now, but he had breezed through. Unfortunately, so had his opponents. Then, the host asked: "In the episode 'It's A Terrible Life', what was Dean's job? Was it...Sales Representative?"

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "Episode". Right. He made a mental note to punch Chuck in the face, the next time he saw him. Just on general principles. He held up the YES card.

But the women both held up NO cards, and Dean exclaimed, "Gotcha!"

"Sorry, 'Dean', but you're wrong," the MC said. "He was the Director of Sales and Marketing."

Dean was indignant. "That's the same damn thing!"

"No, it's not," one of his opponents protested. "My sister is a Director of Sales and Marketing, and it's a way more responsible job than just being a Sales Rep."

"I"M a Sales Rep," another woman called out from the second row, "and there's nothing 'just' about it."

The host looked nervous now. The last thing he needed was a mutiny on his hands. "OK, ladies, let's get on with the contest." He looked at Dean. "Sorry, but you'll have to leave the stage."

Dean dropped his cards at the host's feet. "It's the same damn thing," he said again, and then he stalked off the stage.

Gail was laughing. "Now, wasn't that fun?" she asked Dean when he sat down.

Dean glared at her. "What was fun about that? I lost a game about my own damn life!"

She shrugged. "Well, it was fun for ME."

Dean looked at Cas. "Are we absolutely sure she has to come out of this convention alive?"

The trivia contest concluded, and the MC announced that there would be a break until the next guest came on. The four of them stood and filed out to the atrium. Dean's phone chirped, and he checked his text messages. "It's Nicole," he told the others. "She said if we're not doing anything, we should go upstairs to the photo op room and watch, for a few minutes."

"Yeah, let's do that," Gail piped up. "I've read a lot about those online, and I'm curious what it looks like."

So they all went upstairs to the Third Level, where the conference rooms were. Nicole was waiting for them in the hallway. "Come in with me, for a minute. I told them you were here, and they said I could bring you in. Are you guys having fun so far?"

Gail told Dean's girlfriend about the trivia contest, and Nicole laughed and laughed. Dean was scowling, but Nicole elbowed him. "Come on, that's funny," she said, wiping her eyes. Then Nicole looked at them all, still smiling. "Oh, please tell me you're going to enter the costume contest."

"But, we're not wearing any costumes," Sam protested.

Nicole gave him a half-shrug. She guessed not. But just the fact that they dressed like themselves and looked like themselves should probably get them into the semi-finals alone.

Gail was smiling slyly now. "We'll see," she said, as the men regarded her suspiciously.

The actor who played Cas had just come into the room, to a chorus of squeals and applause from the girls waiting in line. He smiled and waved at them. "Give me a minute," he said to his handlers, and he walked over to where their group stood. "Hi. It's nice to see all of you again," he said, extending his hand to Cas for a handshake.

"We've enjoying the convention, very much," Cas told him as the men shook.

"I'm glad," the actor said, and then he stifled a yawn. "Sorry. Both my kids are sick with the flu right now. Actually, it's more like the Plague," he joked glumly. "I've managed to avoid it so far, but between taking care of them, filming, and this, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep."

"Why don't you just blow this off, then?" Dean asked the actor, but the man waved him off. "I couldn't do that," he said. "These people have paid good money to come here and see me today. I couldn't let them down. Besides, tomorrow I have photo ops dressed as Castiel, and the proceeds from those go to my charity."

Gail smiled at her husband. That reminded her of his recent insistence that they should all play in the charity poker tournament. Not only did the two men resemble each other, but they obviously shared the same sense of altruism.

"Well, I'd better go. They're on a fairly tight schedule, here," the actor said. "I'll see you later, if you're still around for my panel."

Nicole ushered them into the hallway. "I have to get back to the set," she told them, giving Dean a quick kiss. "Sorry. We're wrapping tonight, though. And it should be a shorter night, since the guys' favourite victims are here, today." She smirked at Cas and Gail, and Gail's brow furrowed. She wondered what kind of shenanigans those guys were pulling on the actress who played her character, and what kind of retaliation the woman might have employed. Who knew? That information could come in handy, some day.

They went back downstairs, just as the costume contest was about to start. There were two divisions, Gail was pleased to see. One was miscellaneous characters, and one was Castiel-only.

"See, sweetie?" Gail said to Cas, and she was grinning widely. "You're so important, you have your own category."

"Or, maybe it's just because you can buy about ten trenchcoats for five dollars at the thrift store," Dean wisecracked.

Cas surveyed him and Sam coolly. "Whereas, jeans and flannel can only be found in high-end stores," the Angel said sarcastically, and Gail laughed with delight. "Do you want me to go to the gift shop and see if they have any cream for that burn?" she asked the brothers.

Then, Gail gasped. "You should enter the costume contest!" she said to Cas, smacking his arm in her excitement. "You'll win, for sure!"

Cas shook his head. "No, Gail. That wouldn't be fair to the contestants who worked so hard on their costumes."

She sighed impatiently. Her competitive instincts had been unleashed now. She'd thought that one of the guys would have been a shoo-in to win the trivia contest, but Dean had blown it. "We'll give the prize away to the person who wins second place," she told him. "Come on. Do it for me. It'll be fun."

The brothers were smirking at Cas now. He'd just heard the death knell that every husband fears, the ultimate trump card: "Do it for me. It'll be fun."

Cas sighed. "All right, my love. I'll be right back." He walked out of the room, and the brothers looked at Gail. "Why do you do these things to us?" Dean asked her. She grinned wickedly. "Because I can," Gail responded mischievously.

A few minutes later, Cas was back. He was wearing the full ensemble: the suit, white shirt, dress shoes, blue tie, and his old trenchcoat, of course. He had gone to the men's room and popped over to the bunker, where the outfit was still hanging in the closet of his and Gail's old room. It was kind of funny that he had never taken it to his own house, really. But, the bunker was also home.

"You look wonderful, sweetie," Gail told her husband. He got up on stage when they called for all of the Castiels to come up.

There were about an equal amount of guys and girls, Gail noticed with bemusement. The MC went up and down the line, asking the audience to rate each entrant by applause.

Cas was standing second from the end, and when the host got to him, he received a lot of applause, and a few cheers. He smiled shyly, prompting another round of the same.

The MC said, "We might have our winner, right here. What do you think, ladies? Could he raise you from perdition?"

"He could raise me from a lot of things!" a woman yelled out from the audience, and some of the others laughed.

Cas frowned, looking puzzled. "Look! He's even got the facial expression down!" another woman said.

"There's one more contestant to go, but it looks like he's got this locked up," Sam said, nudging Gail gently. She was smiling widely. Cas was so cute, and he was so sweet to do this for her. And it was good to see him getting cheers and applause from the fans.

The MC got to the girl on the end, and as he put his hand above her head to ask the audience for applause, suddenly, a pair of white wings emerged from the contestant's trenchcoat. The applause had been lukewarm, but now, the room erupted.

"We have our winner!" the host said, holding the girl's arm up in victory.

The contestants slowly filed off the stage as Cas came back to join his group. "My wings are black," he said, pouting slightly.

Sam and Dean were clutching their stomachs, laughing. "You lost a Castiel contest! To a girl!" Dean said, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Gail was trying not to laugh, but it was difficult. Cas was looking distressed now. "Perhaps I should have brought out MY wings," he mused. "I didn't know we were allowed to do that."

Gail did laugh, now; she simply couldn't help herself. She got up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "You are the cutest person in the universe," she told him. "Thank you for indulging me."

Cas gave her a squeeze, smiling gently. It was good to see her and the Winchesters laughing. They had certainly had enough heartaches recently. "I'll go back and change," he said to his wife. "I'll see you in a minute."

About twenty minutes later, the actress who played Gail's character came on stage. She smiled shyly at the audience. "I'm new to this whole thing, so I hope you'll all bear with me. I'm like the opening act at the concert," she quipped. "The act you really want to see is still to come; my TV husband." A laugh rippled through the crowd, and she smiled with relief. "They want me to talk for an hour, but I'm really not that interesting," the actress said, "so I'm going to turn it over to you. Does anybody want to ask me any questions?"

"I do," Gail said to her companions. She got out of her seat and stood in the side aisle, where a lineup was starting to form.

The first girl in line asked, "How does it feel to do those love scenes?"

The actress grinned. "Like I'm the luckiest woman alive. Like I should be paying THEM." The audience laughed, and she added, "And, for those of you who are wondering: yes, I bribed the script writer to write more love scenes into this next movie."

No wonder they had cast this woman, Gail thought admiringly. The similarities were impossible to ignore. When she got up to the microphone, Gail asked the actress her question about the pranks that the actors had played on her on the set.

A huge groan went up from the audience. "Not another prank question!" Gail heard someone lament. "Every single convention! Why don't you ask something original?"

Gail was dismayed. Great. Now, the fans hated her. Again. How the hell was she supposed to know her question was asked at every convention?

The actress looked sharply at the audience. "Now, now," she said. "In the immortal words of Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act II, a woefully underrated movie: 'Do not impugn the person who seeks this information'. Or, words to that effect." She smiled at Gail. "It just so happens that I have a great story on that very subject. Those of you who don't want to hear it can cover your ears," she added tartly.

The actress told a hilarious story about a tit-for-tat prank contest that had gone back and forth between her and the actors who played the brothers, when she had first come on the show. The actor who played Cas had figuratively sat back and watched with amusement for a while, stating that he was just relieved that he wasn't the victim, for a change. But then, his TV wife had exhorted him to form an alliance with her against the other two, and that had gone on for a while. Finally, "the war ended," the actress quipped, but the actors still weren't above trying to make her laugh during takes. Then she would try to do the same, and the crew would groan, because the four of them would sometimes be unable to keep straight faces. But the writer put a lot of scenes in the script with the four of them together, because they had so much chemistry.

Gail thanked the actress for her answer, and went back to her seat.

"We have good chemistry," Sam said, smiling, as all four of them looked at each other, nodding. Yes, they certainly did.

A few minutes later, a man stepped up to the microphone and said, "Was it your idea to leave the word 'obey' out of Cas and Gail's wedding ceremony? 'Cause I feel like you don't obey him enough."

The actress was incredulous. Really? she thought. Really? How the hell was she supposed to answer a question like that? She squinted at the guy who'd asked the question, and then she laughed. "Well, maybe I would, if he wasn't such a giant ass, all the time."

The actor who played Cas laughed, and then he rose the steps to the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, my 'wife'," he said to the audience. "Isn't she something?"

As the two of them continued to entertain the audience, Gail slipped her hand into Cas's. "Look at us," she joked. "Even the make-believe versions of us are adorable."

"We certainly are," Cas said, nuzzling her cheek.

Once the stage shows were over for the day, tables were set up side by side in front of the room for the stars to sign autographs. "I'm going to get them to sign a few of the pictures I bought," Gail told the guys. "Then, if you want, we can call Nicole, and see if she's free."

She lined up at the table for the actor who played Cas, holding half a dozen pictures of him and his TV wife for them to sign. As Gail got to the front of the line, the volunteer who was sitting beside the actor held out her hand. Gail looked at her blankly.

"Tickets?" the woman said tersely.

"Oh," Gail said, surprised. "They told me autographs were included with the kind of seats we have."

"Yes. One, per customer," the woman said impatiently.

The men were standing within earshot, and Dean called out, "OK, well, she can have mine, then." He showed the woman his wristband, but she glared at him. "It doesn't work that way. You have to line up," she told him sternly. "How do I know you didn't get one already?" She looked up at Gail with a long-suffering expression on her face. "One picture only, or you'll have to go buy some more tickets. They're eighty dollars each."

Gail's eyebrows shot up. Holy moly. "Never mind, then, I'll just take the one," she told the woman. Gail glanced at the actor, but he was still talking to the person ahead of her. She stood there, waiting patiently. "Oh, and he doesn't personalize, so don't bother asking," the woman added nastily.

Gail's forehead wrinkled. What the hell was her problem? She supposed this had been a long day for everyone concerned, but still...

"Hey, Gail, how're you doing?" the actor said affably. He was already writing on the photograph: "To our nicer, better-looking counterparts." He signed his name with a flourish, adding Angel wings and a halo. Gail glanced at the volunteer. She was talking to the person in line behind Gail. Then, the actor nodded his head towards the other pictures that Gail was holding. "Did you want me to sign those, too?"

"I don't have any tickets for them," she told him sheepishly. "I didn't know how it worked."

"Nonsense. Give them here," he said, gesturing. She handed the rest of the photos to him, glancing again at the volunteer. She was looking at Gail now. No; she was glaring at her, as if it was Gail's fault. Gail gave the woman a toothy grin.

"Make sure you tell them at the table next door that I said it was OK for my TV wife to sign all of those, too," he said. "Sometimes they get a little too hung up on rules, here. Besides, I owe your husband. For a few things, including babysitting services."

The handler looked like she was having a cow now, and Gail was trying not to laugh. "Thanks," she said to him. "Speaking of which, I hope your kids are feeling better."

"Me, too," he said fervently, and they smiled at each other. Then, Gail moved on.

After she exchanged pleasantries with her counterpart, Gail rejoined her group. "You're such a troublemaker," Sam teased her.

Gail sighed. "Apparently, I am," she agreed dryly.

"Well, we still like you," Sam said, smiling.

"No, we LOVE you," Cas corrected him, taking Gail's hand.

Dean smirked. "Yeah, OK. What they said," he wisecracked. "Come on, Troublemaker. Let's leave, before Security throws you out."

SUNDAY - TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME

The guys who played Sam and Dean did two panels on Sundays; one that was early in the morning, for the people who held Gold tickets, and another in the afternoon, for the entire audience.

The four of them had Gold tickets, courtesy of a little finagling that Nicole had done. The morning show was the only one they had been to where the house lights were kept on for the whole thing. The audience members raised their hands to ask the actors questions, as if they were in class.

When the actors took the stage, after the ovation died down, they looked down at the seats where Gail's group were sitting. "Look at those handsome devils down there," the actors joked, motioning to their real-life counterparts. "Right back at'cha!" Dean called out, and the audience laughed.

Yolanda was there too, of course. It was her big day today. She was going to be seeing her guy all day long. She'd already checked out of the hotel this morning, giving her bag to the Concierge at the Front Desk. She'd added a hefty tip to make sure she could come back periodically to change outfits. She had her dad's gun in the side pouch of the suitcase. There was no way she was going to put it in her purse. During photo ops, you had to leave your bag on the table in the middle of the room, unattended.

As the quartet were sitting watching the show, Nicole ducked into the auditorium. She had a special bracelet on that gave her access to all of the areas at the convention. She'd been upstairs helping the volunteers out for a while, and then she and Dean had exchanged texts saying the group would get together for breakfast after the Gold panel.

They walked over to a restaurant a few blocks away, and the humans ate while the Angels told Nicole their stories from the weekend's activities thus far. She was highly amused by their experiences, and she shared some background stories about the filming they'd been doing.

At the end of the meal, Dean took Nicole's hand. "Well, I'm pretty much convention'ed out," he told the others. "Me and Nicole are going to her place."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to have him back by the time Barry and Tommy are supposed to meet you," Nicole assured them.

"You're welcome to come to dinner with us, of course," Cas said, but Nicole shook her head. "No, thanks. I can't," she said. "Early call tomorrow. We'll see you back at the auditorium tonight, around seven."

The two of them took off, and Sam looked at the Angels. "If the two of you want to be alone, too, I can go for a walk along the seawall, or something," he said to them.

"Nope, you're coming back to the convention, with us," Gail said firmly. "The weekend's not over yet, and I need all the bodyguards I can get."

Sam smiled greatfully. He was pretty sure he knew what she and Cas were doing. He was slowly working through his grief about Quinn, but it was going to take a while. Being with Dean and the two of them always seemed to help Sam cope with whatever he was dealing with.

They went back to the hotel and meandered around for a while, and then they went upstairs to see if they could watch a few of the photo ops. But when they tried to enter the room, a volunteer told them that they couldn't go in.

"It's OK; they're with me," Richard said from behind them. They greeted him happily, asking how Wilma was, and how the production was going. He brought them in with him and they watched for a while as dozens and dozens of people filed in and out of the room, taking pictures with the actors who played the brothers. Then the actor who played Cas came into the room, and more photos were taken, in different combinations.

"Holy moly," Gail said, shaking her head. "I don't know how they do it. I hate having my picture taken even once, let alone hundreds of times."

As the photos were nearing an end, the actor who played Cas's cell phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it. Then, he walked over to where Richard was standing with Cas and Gail and Sam.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," he said. "I've got to leave. The kids both have high fevers now, and my wife is starting to feel sick, too." He frowned deeply. "Problem is, I was supposed to do the Castiel photo ops in an hour."

Gail started to smile. "I don't think that'll be a problem at all," she said.

"Look at it this way," Gail said to her husband. "This time, you're suiting up for a very worthy cause."

Cas nodded slowly. That was why he had agreed to do it. That was the ONLY reason he had agreed to it. He was feeling very self-conscious. He had seen the way that many of the women had approached the men in the earlier photo ops, and he wasn't sure how comfortable he was with it. His wife was going to be right there in the room watching, but even if she wasn't, it wasn't right for him to touch and be touched by a lot of strange women, he said to Gail now.

"Just this once, I'll allow it," she said to him with a smile. "Look, sweetie, I know it's weird. But if they cancelled the photo ops now, that's thousands of dollars the charity won't receive. Besides, there can't be anything too inappropriate going on. They have a bunch of rules about that kind of stuff."

Cas thought about that for a moment. He supposed that was true, but still, he had seen some of the people taking photographs with the stars earlier who had definitely NOT behaved appropriately.

Gail could read the look on his face. "I have an idea," she told him. She stepped back, inspecting his appearance. It was perfect. One flap of his trenchcoat was folded back the opposite way, and his tie was loose, and on backwards. There was just one more detail to add. "Bend down here, for a second," she instructed him. He did, and she threaded her hand through his hair so that it stuck up in the back. When she saw the cowlick there, Gail was instantly thrown back to the day she and Cas had met, here in the bunker. After she'd broached her idea to the people at the convention, Cas had popped back here to change, and she had come with him, to encourage him. She had known how uneasy he was feeling about the whole thing.

Cas moved to the dresser mirror, checking his reflection. "My tie is on backwards," he remarked, and he moved his hand to fix the flap on his trenchcoat.

"Don't, Cas. Don't change a thing," Gail said to him, and he looked at her quizzically. "This is exactly how you looked when we met here, that day," she added warmly.

He turned around to look at her. "It is? Was my tie on backwards, then?"

She nodded, moving closer to him. "Yes," she confirmed with a smile. "And you had that cowlick in your hair, too. You were the most wonderful, most handsome, cutest man I'd ever seen."

"Well, considering that most of your life up till that point was spent in your brother's company and running away from Demons..." Cas started to say, and Gail's smile widened. "Take the compliment, sweetie," she said. Maybe she should reconsider this whole thing. If he got any cuter, one of the women from the photo op line was probably going to kidnap him, or something.

Gail sighed. "The things I sacrifice for charity," she quipped softly, extending her hand to him. "Come on, Castiel. "Let's go help some kids and homeless people."

"As you all know, we have a special treat coming up," one of the photo op room handlers announced. The photographer was patiently standing by. He hadn't put on the loud music they always used to set the mood yet, because they'd told him they wanted to say something to the people in line, first.

"In a minute, Castiel is going to walk through that door," the volunteer said. "And, because he's Castiel, he'll remain in character throughout the shoot. So, no inappropriate touching or poses, please. I know we say that about all the photo ops, but I also know that some people really push the envelope. But, don't do it. Please respect the character enough to make the right choices."

There was a smattering of applause, but mainly, the reaction was just bewildered muttering. Had someone said or done something to the actor earlier today, during the other photo ops? No one had said anything about it, but that might be the reason for the extra warning.

Cas and Gail came through the door, and the fans burst into cheers and applause. Cas had a hold of her hand, but Gail gently disengaged from him just before they came into the fans' view. He was going to do the photos in character, but he was also supposed to be the actor who played Cas, so she thought it might look inappropriate for him to be holding hands with a woman who was neither his real-life wife, or his TV wife. Her head was spinning now with the weirdness of it all, as it was.

But at least Cas was able to keep his wedding ring on. His character was married in the movies, now. Thank goodness, because that might have been a struggle. When she and Cas had gone back to 2500 BC with Gabriel and Paul, their rings had disappeared from their hands. But fortunately, they'd been in Bobby's office, on the floor with the blades they'd been holding. After the dust had settled, while the Angels were still out cold, Bobby had rooted around on the floor and picked up the rings, once he had found them where they had rolled under his desk. At least that was one perk of being the Almighty; he'd known instantly that the rings were there, and all he'd had to do was wiggle a finger to lift the heavy oak desk from the carpeted floor, and then the rings were in his hands. Then he had popped down to the bunker, and gently slid them back onto his friends' fingers, so they would be wearing them when they woke up. Bobby knew how much those rings meant to the couple, and what they symbolized.

Cas looked at his wife now, as the volunteers ushered him to the area where he was supposed to stand. He was very glad she had asked the convention person to make that announcement. Hopefully, that would discourage any forward behaviour.

Gail and Sam were looking on, bemused, as the first few people in line came up to get their pictures taken with Cas. He looked very awkward, standing there stiffly as they approached.

"Hi, Cas," the first girl in line said to him.

"Hello," he said in his gruff voice.

A squeal went up among the girls who were standing in line, and Cas looked startled. Gail and Sam smiled widely. "The role he was born to play," Sam quipped, and Gail laughed.

"Would you put your arm around me, please?" another woman said. Cas frowned, looking at Gail. Go ahead, sweetie, she said over their frequency, we talked about this, remember? So Cas started putting his arm around their shoulders, but he still looked very uncomfortable.

Many of the girls who came up were shy, but some were a little bolder, asking to touch his trenchcoat, or grabbing his tie. "I do not understand the fascination with my attire," Cas said, at his formal best, and the fans were loving it. Then a young girl asked if she could kiss him on the cheek, and he said, "No. I'm a married man." That set off a round of laughter.

Gail was laughing, too. "If he gets any cuter, we're going to have to call the authorities."

"I'm gonna tell your husband you were ogling another man," Dean said from behind Gail. She turned around to look at him. "Where is he, anyway?" the elder Winchester inquired.

Cas looked over at them. "Hello, Dean," he said in his gravelly voice, prompting another round of squeals. "He said it!" one of the girls called out to the ones behind her in line.

Gail was clutching at Sam now, because she was laughing so hard. "What's going on?" Dean said suspiciously. Sam told his brother in a quiet voice about Cas substituting for his show counterpart at the last minute, and Dean's face broke into a grin. "Oh, this is too funny," he said. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Take it off!"

"No, Dean, they want me to leave my trenchcoat on," Cas responded earnestly.

Now, all three of them were laughing. The photographer was grinning, too. The actor always did a great job with these photos, but this was the most in-character he'd ever seen him.

Finally, the last picture was taken, and Cas came over to where they were standing. "I'm glad that's over, although all of you looked like you were enjoying yourselves," he remarked.

"They're setting up downstairs to sign autographs," Dean said, still smirking. "If you wanna change, we'll wait for Mrs. Buzzkill to do her 'fangirl' thing, and then we'll go meet Barry and Tommy."

"That sounds good, Dean," Cas said affably. "I will go back to the bunker and change clothes, and then meet you downstairs." He gave Gail a quick kiss. "Are you all right, my love?"

"No, I'm pissed off," she replied.

"You are?" he said, dismayed. "But, you told me it was all right for me to - "

"It's not that," she joked. "I'm just pissed off that I didn't buy a ticket."

Cas smiled gently. "I'll see you in a minute." Then he left the room so that he could pop himself over to the bunker.

When the three of them got downstairs to the auditorium, they saw that there was a long lineup starting at one end of the room. "Holy moly," Gail said. "I don't know, you guys. Maybe I won't bother. Look at how long the lineup is."

"OK by me," Dean said. "We'll just wait for Cas, and then we'll take off. I'm starving. Oh, and while we're on the subject, Nicole said she hopes you guys had a good time this weekend."

"Are you kidding? I haven't laughed this much in ages," Gail enthused. "Tell her if all of the conventions are this much fun, we might have to come to more."

As the three of them were waiting in the atrium for Cas to come back, Yolanda wandered past them, holding the envelope containing her photo op pictures. As always, the photographer had done a fantastic job. She still hadn't made up her mind which one she was going to get him to sign.

Her suitcase was still with the Concierge, but she had gone back to get it one final time. She'd taken it to the washroom and changed into her favourite outfit, and then reached into the side pouch and transferred the gun to her purse.

She joined the autograph line, reminiscing about the weekend. There had been a lot of good moments, when Yolie had felt like she was the most special girl on earth. He had hugged her tight at the photo ops, giving her that special smile. This morning, in the Gold panel, he had smiled and waved at her from the stage. And then, as she had been walking to the washroom between photo ops, he had been walking in the opposite direction, and he'd given her a wink and another smile.

But there had been some not-so-good moments, too. They'd all sat around the table in his meet and greet, but Yolie had hardly spoken to him. The handler had cautioned them all before he had entered the room that everybody should be polite and respectful, and give the others an equal chance to talk to him. That was fine with her; she was always respectful. But as soon as he'd come in the room, a couple of the girls had started talking to him right away, as if they knew him, monopolizing his time. He was nice and polite, like he always was, but by the time Yolanda had gotten a chance to say anything, the half-hour was almost up. Plus, she had felt stupid, like they were all staring at her. Those were the kind of girls who were mean to her online, and talked about her behind her back at all the conventions.

So she'd stumbled out of the room once the session was over and went straight to the washroom to have a bit of a cry, and to fix her makeup. That was when she had started to doubt herself, for the first time. What was she doing? Yolanda was still a young woman. She could be doing a lot of things with her life. She'd had a moment of clarity as she'd looked at herself in the mirror. What was she doing, going to all of these places, chasing after a middle-aged man with a wife and kids, who barely even knew she was alive?

The thought was so shocking to her that she just stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do. She honestly didn't know what to do. Should she just go get her suitcase, and go home? Wait for her dad to get back from his latest business trip and tell him that she needed help? DID she?

Another girl came into the bathroom and did a double-take when she saw Yolanda. "Oh, my God! It's you! Everybody's talking about you!"

Yolie looked at her miserably. Yeah, she just bet they were.

"Have you seen your pictures?" the girl asked, when she didn't respond. "They're totally cute. My friends were all so jealous. He looks like he's in love with you, or something. I would die if he looked at me that way."

Yolanda looked at her, wide-eyed. Her heart started to beat faster. They were all jealous of her? He looked like he was in love with her? And she'd been about to give up on him!

She'd raced out of the bathroom and down to the room where the pictures were laid out on tables, waiting to be picked up by their owners. She scanned the photos until she found hers. Oh, my God. Oh, my God! He was so handsome, and he was looking at her like she was the only girl in the world. He was a good actor, but there was no way he could fake a look like that. No way.

So Yolie had headed downstairs in a daze, getting her suitcase, changing her clothes, and tucking the gun into her purse. And now she was waiting in line to get his autograph. She'd picked out the most romantic one for him to sign, and she was going to see how he reacted when he saw it.

Things might have worked out quite differently had Cas not made that extra trip from the bunker to his and Gail's house. Once he'd changed back to a shirt and jeans, he'd realized that if Gail wanted to get autographs from the actors who played Sam and Dean, she had nothing for them to sign. He'd taken everything she'd bought at the convention to their house. So he'd popped over there and spent a few more minutes looking through the shopping bags, trying to find a few pictures of the actors. Then he stood there looking at them for another couple of minutes, trying to decide which one he thought she might like the best. The resemblance between the actors and their real-life counterparts never ceased to both amaze and amuse Cas. He could sense his Father's hand in the whole thing. Especially today, when Cas had been able to step in due to that resemblance and raise money for the very worthy causes that his own counterpart's charity donated to.

But he was woolgathering, now. Cas put the photos back into the plastic sleeve. He would just bring them all, and let Gail decide. Maybe they would be nice enough to sign several copies, like the other two had. He hoped so. Gail had been so sweet and understanding about all of those girls being so close to him, earlier. Cas didn't know if he would have been able to be as calm, if the situation had been reversed.

He popped out.

Cas had joined his group just as Yolanda had been walking from the atrium to the auditorium. When he gave Gail the pictures, she changed her mind about going for the autographs again. She'd really wanted to give the pictures to a few individuals for Christmas, as gag gifts. And Cas had been so considerate to go and get them for her. So she split them up, giving one of each actor to Sam, Dean, and Cas, and keeping two for herself. "Let's all get them to sign one each," she said to the men. "That way, I won't get in trouble like I did yesterday."

Gail got in line behind Yolanda. The brothers sighed, but they fell in line behind her and Cas. Sometimes, it was easier just to give in. Besides, they'd checked the time, and they still had well over an hour before they were due to meet Barry and Tommy.

But as they moved up in line, Gail started to re-think her position. She grabbed Dean's sleeve. "You and Sam, go first," she told him.

"What? Why?" he protested.

"Because, since you guys look like them, they like you. I just don't want anybody to get mad at me again. We've had such a fun weekend, I don't want anybody yelling at me and spoiling it," she insisted.

Dean rolled his eyes, but it really made no difference to him, so he and Sam moved ahead of her Cas.

As they got closer and closer towards the partition that the actors were sitting behind, Yolanda's heart started to beat faster and faster. Finally, she was handing the picture to the volunteer who was sitting beside him. He was signing for the person ahead of her, so Yolie waited patiently. Then she moved up to stand in front of him as the woman handed the picture to the actor.

He scrawled his name on the photo, then looked up at her with a pleasant expression. "Thanks for coming out today," he said to the young woman. Then, he was taking the next photo from the volunteer and looking up at Dean. His face brightened. "Well, if it isn't the second-handsomest guy in the place," the actor joked.

Dean laughed. "Careful. Gail's behind me, and so is Cas. If she heard you say that, she might punch you."

"Dean!" she objected from behind him. "You're gonna get me in trouble!"

Yolanda was still standing there with her signed picture in her hand, staring at the men. She recognized the guy who was getting the autograph now. He was the actor's stand-in, the one she'd seen on location on Friday night. They would be friends, of course, but still..."Thanks for coming out"? He had barely looked at her. "Thanks for coming out?!"

"Do you know who I am?" she blurted out, and the actor looked at her quizzically. Yolanda looked at their picture, and then back at him. "What's my name?" she demanded.

"You've got your autograph, dear. You'll have to move along now, and let others have their turn," an older female volunteer said from behind her.

But Yolie didn't hear the woman. The blood was rushing in her ears now. "What's my name?" she asked the actor again. He looked at her face. He knew he'd seen her at quite a few conventions, but he just couldn't come up with her name at the moment. "I'm sorry, I..." he started to say, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "We meet so many people."

"You're really going to have to move along," his handler said sternly. "There's a long lineup behind you."

Yolie dropped her picture on the ground. "NO!" she screamed. She opened her purse. "No! Why are you pretending like you don't know me?" She took out the gun. "Say what my name is! Tell me you love me!"

"Whoa, eh. Eh, whoa," Dean said, putting his hands up slowly, trying to distract Yolanda as she waved the weapon around. "Let's talk about this."

Yolanda was crying now, but she was angry, too. All this time, she had been going to filming locations and coming to conventions, just to get him to notice her, and now he was saying that he didn't even know her name? Why was he acting this way? Were they making him deny her?

No, the little voice piped up in her head. He honestly doesn't know who you are. You mean nothing to him. It's not the other girls who are delusional. It's you.

She pointed the gun at the actor, as everyone froze with terror. No one dared try to make a move. There were too many people gathered around to risk it. Dean and Sam exchanged glances, communicating non-verbally. Dean was closest to the girl, but if he was going to try to take her down, he had to make damn sure she didn't shoot anybody, first. He stepped in front of Sam instinctively. It was too bad Cas wasn't in Dean's spot, he thought with black humour. She could shoot HIM till she emptied the magazine. But none of them were going to make any sudden moves right now. It was just too chancy.

As if reading Dean's thoughts, Yolanda moved away from him slightly. But she was still pointing the gun at the actor's head. "Yolanda," he said suddenly. "Now I remember. Your name is Yolanda."

She laughed bitterly. "Well, that's just great. NOW, you remember." Tears clouded her eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn't afford to lose focus right now, both literally and figuratively. The actor's bodyguard was standing behind the table and he was all tensed up, like he was thinking about leaping across it, and tearing her throat out. And the actors' stand-ins, who looked so much like them, were looking at each other as if trying to figure out how to wrestle her to the ground without anybody getting hurt. Now, Cas's stand-in was creeping slowly around the corner of the partition, too. Yolie leaned closer to the actor, and her gun hand remained steady. "Don't anybody move. I have something I need to say," Yolanda said loudly, looking at him. She let out a shaky breath. "You saved my life," she told him. "You and Sam, both. But, especially you. You have no idea." She started to cry quietly. "When my mom died, my dad started going out of town for business. A lot. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I started binge-watching a bunch of older TV shows, and I found Supernatural. I got hooked right away. You and your brother - I mean, your characters...You stick together, no matter what. I never had any brothers or sisters, and I never really had any friends, either. But then, when I found the show, I found lots and lots of people online who liked it too, and then suddenly, I had both. Everybody said we were a family. That made me feel so good. I finally had people I could confide in. I told them all about how much I loved you. I laughed, when you laughed. I cried when you cried. You meant everything to me. So I started going to the sets, to watch you guys film the show, and then I started going to the conventions. You were so nice to me. I put all of my pictures online, showing my friends, because I was so proud. But they all started being mean to me, then. They said I was showing off. Where did I get the money to go to all those conventions? They called me a bitch, and they told me you didn't love me. But, you do! I know you do! If you don't, nothing means anything!"

"I do love you, Yolanda," the actor said, and the girl laughed humourlessly. "Oh, right. Sure you do," she scoffed. "You're just saying that, so I'll go away."

"No, I'm not. I don't want you to go away. I want to talk to you, to tell you how much you mean to me. To us," the actor continued. He paused. "I used to be really shy when I was younger. It was hard for me to talk to other people, so a lot of times, I didn't. I kept to myself. But then, people accused me of being stuck-up. I just think you haven't met the right kind of friends yet, Yolanda. We'll be your friends, if you'll let us. But you have to promise me something, Yolanda. You have to promise me that you'll get some help. If you put the gun down, I'll take you to see a couple of counsellors we've got here. They'll talk to you for as long as you want."

Yolie was open-mouthed. He was being so nice. What was she doing? He didn't deserve to have a gun pointed at his head. Her hand began to shake.

She lifted the gun, then put it to her own head.

"Oh, hell, no!" Dean exclaimed. He tackled Yolie, wrapping his arms around her waist to cushion the impact when they hit the ground. He grabbed the gun with his other hand, wrenching it out of hers. Sam stepped forward to take the gun from Dean's outstretched hand. The younger Winchester checked the weapon to make sure the safety was put back on.

Both actors' bodyguards rushed forward now, but the stars of the show moved first, coming around the autograph table to help Dean raise Yolanda to her feet. The older woman volunteer who'd been standing behind Yolanda put her arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Sorry; I hope I didn't hurt you," Dean said to Yolie. "But, there's no way. There's no crying in baseball, and there's no dying at a Supernatural convention. It's kind of a personal rule of mine." He glanced at Cas, and the friends exchanged quick smiles.

Meanwhile, Yolanda's favourite actor had bent down to pick up her purse and the signed photo from the floor. He turned around to write something else on the picture, and then gave her both items.

"Come with me, dear. I'll get you a drink of water, and we'll talk," the volunteer said softly.

Yolie was dazed. She looked down at the picture. He had written: "We love you, Yolanda." She started to cry again. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt anybody," she told them, and then the woman led her away.

Everyone was silent for a minute, and then the actors extended their hands to Sam and Dean for a shake, thanking them for their quick action. One of the bodyguards told Sam he would take custody of the gun, and Sam handed it over. Then the bodyguard told the group that they would try to get in contact with Yolanda's father, and get her the help she needed.

The volunteers asked the actors if they wanted to leave, or if they were okay to continue. Both men said they wanted to continue, but now, their bodyguards were going to stand in front of the table, just in case.

"Thanks again, you guys," the actors said to the Winchesters. "I owe you," the actor who played Dean added. "We all do. If there's ever anything we can do for you, just let us know."

"Can you sign all my pictures?" Gail said, smiling.

"Wow, that was scary," Gail said to the men.

After she'd gotten her photos signed, she and her companions had walked a few blocks to the restaurant, where they met Barry and Tommy. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged, and as the humans ate, Gail and Cas had been catching their friends up on the events of the weekend. Most of their stories had provoked bouts of laughter from the men, but when they got to the part about Yolanda, the mood turned somber.

"You're a hero, Dean," Tommy told their friend. "You prevented a tragedy, tonight. I hope they can get that girl the help she needs."

"It sounds like that whole situation might have been avoided if her father was at home more, instead of being out on the road so much," Barry added. "I love being home with the kids. There's nothing more satisfying than that."

Then, the inevitable pictures came out. Ilene was still a baby, but she had already grown quite a bit since the last time they'd seen her picture. Peter was just as big as Angela now, and he was just as smart, too, the men bragged.

Cas was frowning. "I'm sorry it's been so long since we've seen all of you," he told their friends. "I promise you that we will rectify that at Christmas."

"Send me an e-mail, and let me know what to get the kids for Christmas," Gail said to Barry, nudging him. He looked at her in surprise. "You? I thought you didn't have a cell phone anymore."

"OK; Cas, then. It's the same thing," she said, shrugging. "But, send it soon. We're going to have to get started on the presents shortly. This year, we're inviting everybody, and we're going to buy stuff for all of them. So, make sure you keep in touch." She poked Barry again. "And bring your apron, and your best recipes. As it is, I think I'm gonna ask Bobby to expand our kitchen for a few days. We're probably going to be cooking at least five turkeys. Oh, and that tofu turkey, for Dean."

The elder Winchester made a face at her. "That joke wasn't funny then, and it's not funny now. Besides, didn't you hear what Tommy said? I'm a hero. In fact, I think you might have to cook a whole turkey just for me."

She smiled warmly. "Anything you want."

Dean looked suspicious, but Gail really meant it. This year, it was going to be all about family togetherness. The situation with Yolanda back at the convention had been unsettling to her. Had things gone a little differently, Dean or Sam might have been shot. Jody had a malignant brain tumor. Anything could happen to any one of their human family, at any time. Anything could happen to one of them, too. In fact, it had, hadn't it? No one was exempt.

"Anything you want, Dean," Gail repeated.

After a leisurely dinner and a liberal amount of cocktails, Barry and Tommy took the train out to the suburbs, where they were going to take a cab home from the train station. It had been a tiring weekend, but they were happy to have seen their friends, and overjoyed to learn that everyone was all right. But there had been sadness, of course. They had asked Sam about Quinn, and apparently, her murder was no closer to being solved. Quinn's aunt had taken her niece's body away for a private funeral, and the house was already up for sale. They'd all talked about Jody and Frank and the kids too, and there had been more than a few tears shed about the situation.

Barry had his head on his husband's shoulder. The motion of the train was making him sleepy, he'd told Tommy. "Oh, so I guess the two bottles of wine that you and Gail drank had nothing to do with it," his husband had teased him, and Barry had smiled sheepishly. But Tommy had laughed, patting his shoulder for Barry to lay his head down on. It had done Tommy's heart good to see their friends, and to see Barry and Gail toasting each other with glasses of wine, giggling over their convention stories. Tommy wasn't sure what was funnier, the story about Dean losing the trivia competition about his own life, or the one about Cas losing the costume contest, while dressed as himself. Or maybe it was the other story about Cas, posing as the actor who posed as Cas. Tommy couldn't wait for Christmas, when they would all be together again.

Tommy kissed Barry tenderly on the forehead. They were very lucky. They had each other, a sister they both got along with, a boy and a girl at home to dote on, and a wonderful, wacky and loving extended family.

"Friggin' fairies," a man said harshly. Tommy looked up. There were a couple of likely suspects. But, he wasn't that guy any more. He'd certainly been called worse. Since half of Tommy's extended family were Angels, he tried to turn the other cheek whenever possible. However, since his main Angel role model was Cas, Tommy wouldn't hesitate to fight to protect his loved ones, either.

But the man didn't speak again, and the rest of the ride went without incident. Tommy was glad. He'd been thinking about Christmas, and it was hard to think about Peace On Earth and Goodwill To Men when you were punching a guy in the face.

Barry continued to doze.


	4. Last Christmas

Chapter 4 - Last Christmas

One week before Christmas, Gail was in Frank's office at City Hall, finalizing the list.

November had come and gone, and Frank had been elected to City Council. Jokes had flown around fast and furious among their family that Bobby must have intervened, or that Gabriel had stuffed the ballot boxes, after all. But the bottom line was that Frank was an upstanding family man who honestly wanted to bring about change, and that sincerity had come across to the voters.

Right now, though, his sister was driving him nuts. "What kind of vegetables should I get?" she was asking him, going through the list. "Is Angela a picky eater?"

"Maybe you should just get everything in the entire produce section," Frank wisecracked. "You already have enough food to feed the entire Western Hemisphere. What's a bit more?"

"I came here for consultation, not smartass comments," she insisted. "I hope you don't talk to your constituents that way." Gail smiled. "Constituents. I still can't believe that people actually walked into a ballot station and voted for you as one of their civic leaders. Talk about desperate. I would have probably written in some celebrity's name, instead. Oprah, maybe."

"You would have written in Cas's name, and we both know it," Frank pointed out.

She shrugged, hopping off the corner of his desk. "Hey, he was God, once. Now, THAT'S a leader."

"Well, we can't all be as perfect as your husband, but I try my best," Frank said dryly. "I just have to figure out how to wade through all this bureaucratic b.s. in order to get to the good stuff. Lunch programs for kids. More help for single moms, and families where the dad has to work two or three jobs just to see daylight..."

"...Fixing Dean's unpaid parking tickets," she joked.

"Hey, the municipal budget only covers so much," her brother said, smirking. "What you should be worried about is whether or not you have enough alcohol, not enough vegetables. Especially if you're gonna drink."

Gail made a face. "Oh, har, har. Well, if that's the level of humour I can expect, it's no wonder I drink."

The two of them were silent for a moment. Underneath all the banter was a pervading sense of sadness. This might very well be the last time they all got together for Christmas. But Frank had forbidden any maudlin shows of emotion, and Gail was doing her best to hold up her end. So she looked out the window of his office now, smiling faintly.

"Well, we definitely won't have a shortage of snow for the snowman-building contest, anyway," she remarked. "Cas has outdone himself this year." There was about two feet of fresh snow on the ground, and more was falling now.

"Yeah, well, tell him to cool it on the 26th. I have to shovel that stuff, you know," Frank groused.

Gail turned around to look at her brother. "Why don't you just get Rob and Eric to do it?" she said lightheartedly. "I thought that was the reason that people had kids; so they could make them do the household chores."

Frank considered that. "You make a good point," he told her. "And, hey, speaking of kids: how's that list of yours faring in the toy department? Did you get a couple of those things I suggested?"

"We got ALL of the things you suggested," she confirmed. "Or at least, we WILL have gotten them, by the time the guys pick me up."

"Must be nice to be the Queen," Frank said dryly.

"Hey, I did all the food shopping," Gail pointed out. "Besides, I've faced down a lot of bad guys in my time, but there was no way I was going to brave going to a department store a week before Christmas. If the three of them come back in one piece, it'll be a Christmas miracle."

Frank laughed. He could just picture it: Sam, Dean and Cas, wrestling last-minute shoppers to the ground to get everything Gail had dispatched them to buy. He shuddered. Better them than him. That was one reason Frank had pled that he had to work late. But he actually did have some paperwork he was supposed to catch up on. Paperwork. How lame. The once and mighty Hunter had had been reduced to loading a stapler, instead of loading a gun. But Frank realized he had no business going out there and putting his neck on the line any more, not with a family to take care of. He'd had to face facts. He wasn't getting any younger, and in his brutally honest moments, he also had to admit that Jody wasn't going to pull through. He wasn't sure how much longer they would be given, but when his wife was gone, Angela would need Frank even more. He intended to be a good role model for his kids, and that started with being around when they needed him. That would be a first, in his and Gail's family. Hell, that would be a first in any of their families. Even Cas never saw his Father any more. Which was pretty funny, when you thought about it. And kind of sad, too.

"Boy, it's really starting to come down, out there," Gail said, looking out the window again. "Cas must be getting really stressed."

Cas was. He and Sam and Dean had been doing fairly well, ticking items off the list. But then, he realized: with all of the shopping they'd been doing, he had bought nothing for Gail. Absolutely nothing. That was one of the reasons that he had assured her that he and the Winchesters would take care of this mission; so that he could shop for her gifts. But as of now, he had nothing for her. And, what was even worse, he had no idea what to get for her.

"Please, help me," he pleaded with the brothers.

Dean shrugged. "I'd like to help you, Cas, but I have no ideas left."

"Everything we come up with, you veto," Sam added.

"The problem is, she doesn't like any of the usual junk that women like," Dean complained. "No jewelry, no makeup, no fancy clothes..." He smirked. "Are we even sure she's a woman?"

"Hoo boy, it's a good thing she's not here to hear you say that," Sam said, grinning. "She'd kick your ass."

"Which only goes to prove my point," Dean said, nodding. Then he sighed. Cas was getting that look again. If they didn't do something soon, there would be three more feet of snow when they got outside, and Dean would be digging his Baby out of a snowbank. "I'll tell you what," Dean said to Cas now. "Divide, and conquer. I'll go over to the toy section and get the last couple of things on that part of the list, and Sammy'll go with you to get something for Gail. Get her something from me too, while you're at it. I'll meet you guys at the Food Court in...what? Half an hour? See ya." Then Dean started to walk away, as Cas and his brother stared after him, open-mouthed. Half an hour? But they still had no idea what they were even supposed to be getting!

Sam looked at his friend. "Let's just walk around. Maybe an inspiration will strike."

Cas nodded, sighing. "There's never a Magi around when you need one," he quipped, and Sam barked out a laugh. That had been unexpectedly good, actually. He clapped Cas on the shoulder, and the friends smiled at each other.

"Don't worry, Cas. We'll find something good. We always do," Sam said encouragingly, and the men began to wander.

Dean was in the toy department, consulting the list with a puzzled expression. What the hell was a...?

"Excuse me," he said to a girl who wore a name tag that said "Fran, Customer Service". "Do you have Happy Silly Fun Time toys?"

The employee looked at him blankly, and Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. Stupid name, right? I had to look at it five times, just to make sure. You ever heard of those?"

The young girl gave him an indulgent look. "Of course I have," she said. "Good luck with that, though. Everybody's kid wants one of those. We've been having trouble keeping them in stock. I don't even know if we have any left. But if we do, they'll be two aisles over." She pointed. Dean glanced over to where she was indicating, but when he turned to ask her another question, she was gone. He let out a frustrated breath. Customer Service, his ass. He looked doubtfully at the list again. "Happy Silly Fun Time?" Was he absolutely sure that Gail wasn't screwing around with him? Was that even a real thing?

"Oh, yeah. Happy Silly Fun Time," a man said. He'd been passing by where Dean was standing, and he'd overheard the elder Winchester, puzzling aloud. "They're robot toys, from Asia. The hottest things this Christmas season. Good luck getting one this close to Christmas, though."

"One? I'm supposed to get three!" Dean exclaimed.

The man laughed. "Well, I hope you have friends at the North Pole, then. Good luck, Buddy," he repeated, and then he too was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean said softly. Then he shrugged. Well, he might as well go over there and look, anyway. If they couldn't get them here, maybe Cas could zap them around to a few more places. And then, if they still couldn't get them, maybe Cas could pop over to Asia. Hey, at least they had options available to them that other families didn't. But all Dean knew was that those kids weren't gonna miss out on the hottest toy of the Christmas season. No way. Not on his watch.

The aisle was deserted when he got there, and the shelves were mainly bare. Yeah. That figured. But, wait: Dean could see a few boxes way up there, on the high shelves. Were they those Happy Stupid Whatevers? He squinted. Yep, that was them, all right. Two boxes on the second-highest shelf, and one above that. He guessed that no one had been able to get to them because they were up so high. Oh, well. Too bad for them. But Dean Winchester was Dean Winchester, and those toys were his.

So he stretched to his full height, reaching up to get those two boxes that were sitting close together. He was just able to touch them with his fingertips. He coaxed one box to the lip of the shelf and then tipped it over, catching it neatly. Then he repeated the process with the other one. Phew. So far, so good.

He set the two boxes down on the floor by his feet as he contemplated his next move. There was no way that Dean could reach high enough to get that last box off the uppermost shelf. No way. Even Sammy would have had trouble. So, what was Dean supposed to do? He looked around for an employee, but there was no one here. Of course there wasn't. Usually, when you walked into a store, they were all over you, like a swarm of bees, or something. But once you needed their help for something? Poof. Disappearing act. Every damn time.

Well, Dean Winchester was no quitter. He looked the shelving unit up and down, then shook it experimentally. Seemed solid enough. So he hoisted himself up to stand on the bottom shelf and stretched his hand up to try to get the box, while holding on with his other hand. Geez. He was tall, but this was ridiculous. He got up on his toes and stretched a little...bit...more. His fingers came in contact with the box, and he nudged it closer and closer to the edge of the shelf, just like he'd done with the others...

And suddenly, the box was falling, but now, Dean realized he was screwed. He couldn't let go of the shelving unit, or he would fall, too. He went for the one-handed catch, but he missed. Aww, crap. Now the stupid thing was gonna be broken, and how were they going to decide which kid was going to have to be the one who was going to have to do without?

But as Dean braced himself, he didn't hear the sound of impact he'd expected to hear. Weird. So he looked down from his perch, and there was an older, teenage kid standing below him. The guy had caught the box before it had hit the ground, and he had it in his hands now.

"Thanks, man," Dean said, relieved. "Boy, you wouldn't believe the trouble I was gonna be in if that damn thing broke."

But the teenager didn't say anything in response. Instead, he bent down and picked up the other two boxes that Dean had placed on the floor. Then, the kid grinned.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed. He jumped down from the shelf and grabbed the young man by his coat front. "Put those Happy Silly Stupid things down, and back away," Dean threatened. "Nobody has to get hurt, here."

"Why should I?" the teenager said insolently. "You snooze, you lose."

Dean leaned his face in, close to his. "I'll give you one more chance, buddy, or those boxes will be going somewhere on you that no box was ever meant to go, and they'll be going sideways. Look into my eyes, and tell me if I'm kidding. I will mess you up. Now, what's it gonna be?"

There was a tense moment as Dean waited for the kid's reaction. Truthfully, if he ran off with the toys, there wouldn't be much that Dean could do about it. He was pretty sure that plugging a kid this close to Christmas would be a bad move.

Luckily, the would-be thief caved. He thrust the boxes at Dean and broke free, running down the aisle in the other direction. "Yeah, that's right. You'd better run!" Dean called after him, like he was a gunslinger in the Old West and he was riding Black Bart out of town. Oh, well. This had been a small victory, but Dean felt like a hero, nonetheless. He and Sam had never known the joy of a family Christmas, growing up. By the time Dean's little brother had been old enough to know what was going on, their father had them out on the road, dragging them from town to town, chasing after the ghost of their mother. Whenever Christmas had rolled around, John Winchester had either been passed out drunk, or out killing monsters. The Winchester boys had never known the excitement of running down to the living room in their pajamas Christmas morning to see what was underneath the tree for them. Dean had never really been able to give Sam that experience when they were growing up, which was sad. But now, he had another shot, with those kids. Angela, Pete, George, and little Ilene. Even Rob and Eric, in a way, although they were young men now. What kind of Christmas would it be without seeing the excited looks on their faces when they got to open presents from the people who loved them?

"I've got your backs," Dean murmured, heading towards the cashier with his treasures. "Uncle Dean will always have your backs."

"Yeah, Cas. Sure. I'll send her downstairs to wait for you guys," Frank was saying now. "Did you get everything on the list? Really? Even the Happy Funny Lucky Whatever-The-Hell toys? Wow. I'm impressed. I thought that was gonna turn out to be a Jingle All The Way-type situation."

"What's that, Frank? I don't understand," Cas said, puzzled.

"That's a Christmas movie, with Schwarzenegger and Sinbad, fighting over a toy," Frank told him.

"Oh, Cas said, and then there was silence for a moment. "What do the Arabian Nights have to do with it?" he asked Frank, thoroughly bewildered now.

Gail's brother laughed. "Never mind, Cas. Now, hurry up and get here. Your wife is driving me crazy." He hung up the phone and turned to her. "Your husband is one of a kind," Frank told her.

"I know," Gail said, smiling. She looked out the window once more. "Boy, it's really coming down out there now," she remarked. "I don't know how much of that is Cas, and how much is nature."

"Probably a little from Column A, and a little from Column B," Frank said. "Now get outta here, and leave me alone. I need to get this paperwork finished, before Scrooge comes in here to tell me that I have to do it on Christmas Day."

"OK, Bob Cratchit," Gail said, nodding. She bent down and hugged her brother, giving him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you in a few days. Call if you need us, but otherwise, we're going to be very, very busy. We've got a buttload of presents to wrap, and - I can't believe I'm gonna say this - Liz is going to attempt to show me and Cas how to do some Christmas baking."

Frank's eyebrows rose. "Since when do you know anything about baking?"

Gail shrugged. "That's just it; I don't. But Liz does, so she said she'll show us. Cas said he wants to do it, too." She pointed her finger at her brother. "And before you accuse him of being un-manly, just because he wants to - "

But Frank interrupted her. "You must have me confused with that other guy, the one who drives that black car he thinks is cooler than mine. Don't forget, I'm the chief cook and bottlewasher at my house, nowadays. Far be it from me to criticize, if a man wants to learn some culinary skills. Just tell him I draw the line at a frilly apron. But if he insists on wearing one, I expect pictures, and plenty of them."

Gail laughed, but now she was feeling sad again. The reason that Frank had to do so much stuff in his own kitchen was because some days, Jody couldn't remember how to cook, or even how to make coffee. The three men of the house had pretty much taken over in that department, but when Frank was here at City Hall and the boys were on the road, Liz would come in to help, or one of the other Angels. Sometimes Bobby would come himself, and he would put Angela on his knee, reading stories with her. With every passing day, Angela was starting to remind Gail more and more of herself, at that age. Or at least, the child she could have been, if she had grown up in a nurturing environment. The girl had a bright, inquisitive mind, and her level of intelligence was that of a much older child. She already knew that many members of her family were Angels, and that her de facto grandfather was God. Recently, when Jody had been indisposed, Liz had been at the house helping out, doing housework. Gabriel had been hanging around, keeping Liz company, and he had grown frustrated seeing Liz doing everything the human way. It was taking much too long, and Liz was struggling, trying to vacuum underneath the couch and chairs in the living room. So Gabriel had snapped his fingers, and suddenly every stick of furniture was suspended in mid-air. Angela had laughed and clapped at that, so Uncle Gabe had performed a few more tricks for her. But then Angela had wanted to know how he'd done all those things, and Liz had placed an emergency call to Frank at the office. Frank had rushed home, pleading urgent family business. Then, he and Gabriel had had a few words. But as soon as Gabe had called Frank "Darrin Stephens", making Frank laugh, the men had called a truce. Frank had known he would have to come clean to Angela about the subject soon, anyway. So he had sat his little daughter down, and told her everything. Angels, God, even Demons and monsters. What the hell. If she was gonna have nightmares, she could sleep in his and Jody's bed for a few nights. But, Angela had merely nodded. On some level, she'd already known that their family was different. And Rob and Eric had been preparing her for the discovery that monsters were real with the bedtime stories they'd been telling her. But in their stories, the monster got killed before it could even get near Angela. Every single time.

Angela knew a lot of things for someone of her tender years, but what she didn't know was what was going on with her mother. Sometimes they would sit and cuddle together watching cartoons, or have milk and cookies in the kitchen. Sometimes her mother would take part in Story Time, and then both she and Angela's dad would tuck her in for the night. But other times, she was told that her mom wasn't feeling good, and Angela might not even see her for half a day, or even longer. But on those occasions, somebody else in the family would be around to keep Angela company, or she would read quietly or watch TV on her own. Now that she knew the whole truth about her family situation, Angela knew that she had all kinds of Angels and God watching over her, and so she knew that everything would be fine.

Gail looked at Frank fondly for a minute before she left his office. He'd already shut his computer on, and opened a file from the stack that was on the corner of his desk. She wondered if he had any idea how much of a hero he was. Just an ordinary guy, doing ordinary stuff. But he had been there for Gail all her life, and now the process was being repeated, with his own family.

"Oh, and make sure you go right down to the lobby," Frank said, seeing out of the corner of his eye that she was still there. "This is a secure building, and you don't have an access card. The security guy will let you out the front door, once Dean pulls up. Goodnight, kiddo."

Gail nodded. She wasn't interested in walking around the building, anyway. It wasn't exactly the world's most interesting place. But she could see the need for that kind of security, of course. It was unfortunate, but nowadays, it was necessary.

She took the elevator straight down to the ground floor and stood in the lobby, looking around. There was only one problem: she didn't see a security guard, anywhere. There was a desk, a chair, and a computer off to the side of the front glass doors, but no guard. Maybe he'd gone to the washroom, or something. Oh, well. She would just have to wait. The guys weren't here yet, anyway.

She stood looking out the big windows of glass. The snow was blowing sideways now. Holy moly. It was a blizzard.

Suddenly, two men appeared in front of Gail, looking inside at her. They started to yell, banging on the glass. Presumably, they wanted her to let them in. She shrugged, looking around for the security guard again. He was still nowhere to be seen. Great. Now she was standing here like an idiot, and the men outside were getting more aggressive, pounding and kicking the glass, and swearing at the top of their lungs. Gail was gesturing, trying to communicate that even if she was inclined to let them in the building, she had no idea how to do it. The doors locked automatically after the work day ended, and it was evening now. As it was, Gail was sort of trapped, herself. She had no cell phone, and she couldn't go back upstairs to Frank's office, because she had no access card for the elevator. Even when Cas and the guys got here, she had no idea how she was supposed to exit the building, short of popping out. But she couldn't do that, because there were security cameras all over the place.

Where the hell was the security guard? Oh, thank goodness; here he came. Finally. She was about to tell him about the two angry guys, but apparently, she didn't need to. He strode over to the front glass doors and pushed a green button beside them, pushing the door open. Ohhh.

"Hey, what's the matter with you guys?" the guard yelled at the men. "If you want to get into my building, you ask me nicely." He let the men inside.

"We were tryin' to get a cab," one of the men slurred, "but you can't see a damn thing out there. And that woman just stood there, laughing at us." He pointed at Gail.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't laughing at you! I was trying to tell you that I didn't know how to let you in the building!" Or even if she should, she thought, but she didn't add that part. The security guy was the one who worked here, not her.

"What do you think that green button is there for?" the drunk guy said to her. His buddy just stood there, weaving slightly. Apparently, the first man was the spokesman for the pair, Gail thought dryly. She scanned the street in front of the building, looking for the familiar black car. She really didn't want to mix it up with two drunk humans. She just wanted to get home.

"What are you, stupid?" the man persisted. "You know, our taxes pay for this building. We own this building."

Well, if that was the case, shouldn't they have the keys to the place? she thought, but she was doing her very best not to rise to the bait. She was trying to be the bigger person, here.

The security guard's cell phone rang, and he walked away to answer it. Great. The drunks were still giving her the side-eye, and the one with the attitude said, "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Gail let out an exasperated breath. "Look, you're inside NOW, aren't you? Why don't you just drop it?"

"Because you're a stupid, snobby bitch, that's why," the man said, walking over to where she stood. He looked down at her as his silent, smaller companion trailed behind him, like Boo-Boo following Yogi. Aw, geez. Why had she thought of that? Gail was going to laugh now, and the drunk wasn't going to like that one bit.

But she was also getting mad, now. She looked around, but the security guard had disappeared again. A fat lot of good he was. Gail looked up at the drunk. "So...what? Are you going to beat up on a woman half your size, now?" she said, giving him a baleful glare.

"Did I say I was going to beat you up?" the man countered.

"No, but then I don't know why you're standing so close to me," she said tartly. "The last guy that stood this close to me, I married. Oh, and speaking of which..."

Gail had seen the Impala pull up in front of the building, and Dean's timing couldn't have been better. She gave the drunk a toothy smile. "There's my ride. So, if you and Boo-Boo will excuse me - "

"What's going on here?" Cas demanded angrily. "Why are you accosting my wife?"

Gail turned around, her heart sinking. Presumably, Cas had seen how close the guy was standing to her from the car, and the expressions on their faces, and had just popped into the building. Terrific. That was just the kind of thing Gail had been hoping to avoid. She looked at her husband, but he was staring at the men. "I will give you exactly two seconds to back up, and to apologize to my wife for invading her personal space," Cas went on in his quiet voice. "And if I'm not enough of a deterrent for you, which I should be, do you see that car in front of the building?" He pointed. "There are two men in that car who are even bigger than myself, and we have just spent a few hours doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, at the mall. Therefore, none of us are in very good humour at the moment. In fact..." Incredibly, Cas pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, as Gail tried not to smile.

Cas hit Sam's number on the Speed Dial. "Could the two of you step out of the car for a moment, please?" the Angel asked his friend. The brothers did, and the drunk guys' mouths fell open.

"We're sorry, Miss...I mean, Mrs. - " the drunk stammered, and Gail rolled her eyes. It was funny how these types guys always backed down when confronted by guys who were bigger than them. Maybe if they just had a few manners, in the first place, stuff like this could be avoided. She sighed. "Just do me a favour: try to remember that 'goodwill to men' includes women, too. It's Christmastime, fellas. Come on."

After giving the men one more glare, Cas took Gail's hand and popped her into the car. She groaned.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked them, and Gail shrugged. "Just drunk guys, being jerks," she responded. "What I'm worried about is the security cameras. Depending on how drunk those guys are, they might just think they were seeing things, or they might forget about it by morning. But, how are we going to explain us, just suddenly appearing and disappearing to and from the lobby like that? Frank says those cameras are all over the building. That's why I didn't just pop down here to the car, in the first place."

Oh. Cas hadn't really thought about that. He had just seen two angry-looking men standing too close to Gail, and he had reacted instinctively. He took his cell phone out, sighing. "I suppose I had better call Frank, and tell him what I've done," Cas said.

But when he called his brother-in-law to tell him, Frank had laughed. "That's OK, Cas," he said. "It just so happened that the blizzard knocked out our security cameras."

"Really?" Cas said, delighted.

"Well, no, but that's gonna be my excuse, once I get Bobby to erase the footage," Frank smirked. Then his smile faded. "But what I'm more concerned about at the moment is that so-called security guard, taking off and leaving Gail alone with those guys." The smirk returned. "Even though I'm sure she could have kicked their asses without breaking a sweat. But I appreciate the heads-up, Cas. I believe I'll go down to the lobby, and have a little chat with whoever I find there. We'll talk soon."

Gail was relieved. She knew how important that job was to Frank. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him any trouble at City Hall.

"He should not have left you alone with those men. Frank is quite right about that," Cas said, his lips pursed tightly together.

Gail slipped her hand into his. Even without her blade, she could probably have handled those guys fairly easily, if she'd needed to. But it had been a while since she'd seen this side of Cas, the protective side, and she had always found it very attractive.

"Did you get everything?" she asked the men, and Dean laughed shortly. "Let me tell you about the dog-eat-dog world of the toy department, one week before Christmas," he said, as he drove on in the snow.

Vincent had intended to have Becky call Castiel and plead her case to be included in the Christmas festivities, but as it turned out, she didn't have to. Gail had called Becky to invite her.

"But, before I say that you can come, I need your word that you won't say or do anything to make Sam uncomfortable," Gail had said.

Vincent had grinned at that. Becky had readily agreed, of course, but the idea amused him greatly. Would the fact that Bimbo Becky was going to spawn an Unholy, Anti-Christlike voodoo prince and pass it off as Sam Winchester's offspring count?

Becky was packing an overnight bag for her little excursion. They were going to let her stay overnight in one of the spare rooms so that she could have a few drinks on Christmas Eve if she wanted, and be there early for the opening of the gifts and the snowman-building competition, on Christmas morning.

Becky had been overjoyed. She was really going to feel like one of the family. She couldn't wait to tell everybody, and see the looks on their faces. Vincent had told her to wait until Christmas dinner, when everybody was sitting at the table, saying Grace. That's what they would do at an Angel house, right? he'd said. Then, as Castiel was carving the turkey, Becky should stand up and tell everyone her and Sam's wonderful news. Vincent gleefully pictured the scene. With any luck, Cas would slip and cut off a couple of fingers, or something. Now, THAT would be the kind of warm family moment that Vincent would love to see. Alas, he would be elsewhere. He could no more enter that house than he could enter the Kingdom of Heaven. But Vincent and his Caribbean family would be having their own kind of celebration, and it would be a damn sight more fun than anything those Angels could cook up, he was sure.

Becky was extremely excited about going there for Christmas, not only because she was anxious to see Sam and reconnect with the people she'd once regarded as her family, but because a part of her was a little bit eager to be away from Vincent for a few days. Ever since he'd come into her life, he had done nothing but good things for her, yet Becky felt a certain way about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Someone with Ethan's law enforcement background would have called it "hinky". There was just a certain way that Vincent looked sometimes, almost as if he was wearing a mask of somebody else's face. Becky couldn't really describe it to herself any better than that. And every time she thought back to the night that she and Sam had slept together, all she could see in her head was Sam's face with a black scorch mark on it, like Vincent had. But, that was nuts. It was probably because Vincent spent so much time at Becky's house. He must be lonely, she guessed. And he HAD been really good to her. But when Becky shared her good news with Sam and the rest of the family, Becky wouldn't really need Vincent that much anymore. If at all. That was why she'd been glad to hear that he had family that he was going to spend Christmas with. Vincent could tell by the look on Becky's simple-minded face that she was feeling sorry for him, and the thought amused him greatly. She really thought that she was going to be accepted back into the bosom of the God Squad with open arms once she'd given them her little news bulletin. Of course, there was a chance, albeit by the smallest of margins, that that could actually happen. Christian charity, and all that crap. Now that Quinn was no longer in the picture, Sam could well decide that he needed to "do the right thing" by Becky. Those Winchesters were getting a little long in the tooth to think about fathering kids. This could very well be Sam's last shot at parenthood. Maybe that would be enough to tip the scales.

In any event, it didn't really matter. The child was going to be born, regardless of whether Sam accepted it or not. The further along in her pregnancy Becky got, the more The Son would take over. Vincent knew the kid would assert its will, because it was already doing that. Becky had been drinking the so-called health shakes and scarfing down ever-more bloody steaks for three months now. She had killed Quinn viciously, and licked the unfortunate woman's blood from her fingers afterwards. And, the other day, Becky had confessed to a craving for raw liver and kidneys. Vincent had brought her some, from the same butcher shop as he'd been getting the steaks. But soon, she would be experiencing an overwhelming need for even fresher meat. After her Christmas in the Holy Land, Vincent thought sarcastically, he and his Little Mother would have to come to some kind of understanding about the care and feeding of his Son. Either voluntarily, or otherwise. But Vincent was pretty sure it would be the former. He had been there at Quinn's house that day. He had seen the orgasmic look on Becky's face when she had killed her rival for Sam's affections. Oh, Becky was on board, all right. She just didn't know it, yet.

Vincent watched Becky pack in preparation for her last weekend as a decent human being. But he had no sympathy for her; none whatsoever. That was what she got for scheming behind Sam's back. That wasn't something that decent people did. No, Becky was already a loaded gun when Vincent had come into her life. All he had done was to help her focus on her goals. She had been playing a child's game, trying to dose Sam with a love potion. Love potion, Vincent's ass. He respected Rowena about as much as he could any woman, but, really? That kind of thing was beneath her. That was the sort of spell you could sell to Victorian ladies, or prepubescent girls. Becky was sitting at the grownups' table now, but she would be best to leave the magic to those who knew what they were doing.

"Have a wonderful holiday, dear," Vincent said, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. And then, he was gone.

It was Christmas Eve Day, and the house was bustling. This was the biggest number of people they'd ever had here at one time. Gail had asked Bobby to step in and add a further extension to the house so that they would have enough room for everyone to stay over. They also had the kitchen enlarged to epic proportions, the living room area for the opening of the presents, and the dining room, where they would all sit down together for the Christmas meal. Also, to cap it all off, he had enlarged the back yard for the snowman-building competition.

Most of the family got there early, and Dean and Frank were already drinking. But no one gave them a hard time about it. Nobody was driving, and it was Christmas.

Dean was giving Frank a hard time about being a politician. "So, have you learned how to talk a lot without actually saying anything yet?" the elder Winchester taunted Frank.

"Have YOU learned how to feed a parking meter yet?" Frank shot back.

Dean grinned. "Hey, what's the point of voting for your friends for government positions if they can't help you out, once in a while?"

"You actually voted for me?" Frank joked. "Well, there was your first mistake, right there."

"Yeah, well, your sister made me," Dean smirked.

"What are you working on right now?" Sam asked Frank.

"If you really want to know, after the holidays, I'm gonna try to form a caucus to do a study on kids' school lunch programs. I want to see if we can extend those to include breakfast, too. A lot of those kids' families are so poor they go to school hungry in the morning. It's hard to learn when your stomach hurts from being so hungry." Frank glanced at Gail, who was floating around the living room, putting snack trays out, ironically enough. She caught his eye. Frank had done without meals sometimes when the two of them had been on the road, so that she could eat. She looked at Dean. She'd bet a million bucks that he had also gone without, so that he could feed Sam. She brought two trays laden with sandwiches over to where the men were sitting and placed them beside Frank and Dean, giving them each a big kiss on the forehead.

"Oh, ewww! Gross!" Dean said, pretending to swat her.

Angela was running around the house with a sandwich in one hand, and a piece of chocolate in the other. "Caucus!" she exclaimed. Gail burst out laughing.

"Oh, sure. THAT word, she remembers," Frank said, rolling his eyes. "She runs around our yard, yelling that at the top of her lungs. The neighbours are starting to give me funny looks."

"She's running around your yard? How come?" Sam asked him.

"She wanted to practice making a snowman," Frank said with a grin. "Apparently, she's got a competitive streak. Wonder where she got that from."

"Don't look at me," Gail said innocently. She poked Barry in the stomach playfully on her way to the kitchen. "She totally got that from me," she said to her friend proudly.

"I have so many caucus jokes I want to make right now, I don't even know what to do with myself," Gabriel said. "Problem is, they're all really, really dirty."

"That's never stopped you before," Frank pointed out.

"Too true, Frankincense," Gabriel said, nudging him. "But I just want to make sure I don't get myself in too much trouble."

"Like we said, since when?" Bobby piped up, and they all laughed. Bobby touched the Archangel's arm. "Actually, can you come with me for a minute?"

Bobby led the way down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms, where Rob was waiting.

"Rob had a vision, but I didn't wanna talk about this kind of stuff with the kids running around," Bobby told Gabriel.

"I'm sorry about the other thing," Rob said to the Archangel. "I really thought that was your blade that I saw."

Gabe shrugged. "Hey, no big. The one Cas got at that tournament is a heavy-duty one, too. We just have to figure out who it belongs to."

Rob sighed. "Now, I've had another vision, but it was really vague. I think a kid has your blade."

"A kid?" Gabriel echoed. He got a chill for a minute, picturing his Nephilim son holding his bloody blade, after having killed Its mother. But he shook it off. This was supposed to be a happy family Christmas.

"Is that it?" Bobby said, a touch of irritation in his voice.

Rob shrugged. "Sorry, Gramps. If I get anything else, I'll let you guys know. Hey, what's 'BAKTIOTHA' mean?"

"How the hell should I know?" Bobby said, also shrugging.

"That's what the blade Cas won has on it!" Gabriel exclaimed. "Did he tell you that?"

"No," Rob said quietly. "But when I saw your blade, I also saw another one, with that word on it. They're connected, somehow."

Gabe restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but just barely. Well, duh. But he knew that the kid was honestly just trying to help, so he thanked him and said to let them know if he came up with anything else.

Becky and Nicole were in the dining room area, where Cas, Gail and Barry had laid out a lunch buffet. Dean had told Nicole that Becky was coming. Gail had asked Sam if he was OK with it, and he'd said that he was. She hadn't bothered him since their one-night stand, and Gail had assured him that with the extensions to the house and all the people who would be there, they probably wouldn't interact too much, anyway. Plus, Sam realized that Becky would likely be alone for Christmas if they didn't have her over, and he was too soft-hearted to let that happen.

Becky was making small talk, and Nicole was being polite. The whole situation was a little weird, in Nicole's opinion. Or, maybe a lot. Becky, on the other hand, was sizing Nicole up now. If she and Dean's romance was serious, Becky thought she should get to know Nicole better.

Nicole wasn't so sure she wanted to do that. Dean had told her that Sam had told HIM that Becky wasn't stalking Sam any more, but Nicole didn't really believe that. Whenever Sam was in her vicinity, Becky's eyes would follow him around.

"That was really scary about Quinn, wasn't it?" Nicole remarked.

Becky's stomach lurched. "It sure was," she replied. "Did they ever figure out who did it?"

"No," Nicole said shortly.

Becky was starting to get a little weirded out now. Nicole was just looking at her calmly, but she definitely didn't want to talk about Quinn. So she turned her back on Nicole, taking her full plate into the living room.

Frank and Dean had been grazing the trays of food that Gail had brought them, but mainly, they were more interested in drinking, at the moment. Dean was telling Gail's brother about his showdown with the teen in the toy department, looking furtively around them to make sure they weren't being overheard by little ears. But, just in case, Sam had suggested that they use a code. The only problem was that Dean had decided to call the robot toys "sons of bitches", and Frank was finding that hilarious.

"So, I finally find the sons of bitches, and they're way up there on the Sasquatch shelves! Higher than Sammy can reach, even!" Dean exclaimed. "So I climb up there, I finally get 'em down, and this little bastard is down there, stealing the sons of bitches!"

Jody was rolling her eyes. "Do you think we could have just a bit more swearing?" she said, exasperated. "I don't think Angela knows all the really good words, yet." She was holding baby Ilene, bouncing her up and down. "Maybe we can teach Ilene here how to curse too, while we're at it."

Angela's timing was impeccable. She picked that particular moment to skip by the men. "Sun bitch!" she yelled gleefully.

Frank, Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then they burst out laughing. Now, Jody's lips were twitching, too, even though she was trying to look stern. Then, she gave up. Her husband was entitled to blow off a little steam. She'd had a bad few days recently, when he'd had to do everything around the house. Luckily, she was having a few good days, now. It couldn't have come at a better time. Jody had been looking forward to this Christmas more than she'd been letting on, because she was becoming more and more convinced that it would be her last.

Jody ducked into the kitchen to ask Barry if it was OK for her to put Ilene down for her nap. He was elbow-deep in flour and chocolate sauce, and Tommy was elsewhere. Please do, he'd said.

Jody took Ilene to one of the extra bedrooms in the back, in case the baby was a light sleeper. A houseful of people was pretty noisy, she thought. But she had willed herself not to get one of her headaches, and to try to remember everyone's names. If this was going to be it for her, Jody was determined to soak up all the family fun she could.

But for now, she sat down in a rocking chair beside the crib, cuddling Ilene. "You know, it wasn't too long ago that Angela was this small," she said to the infant. "Now, she's running around, learning how to swear and giving her dad hell. Won't that be fun for him?"

She sighed, kissing Ilene softly on the forehead. "You always think there's going to be more time. I don't know how many things I didn't do that I should have done when I was younger. I wanted to go skydiving, travel the world, maybe take a cruise...but instead, I had to go and get married, and have kids. Twice." Then she sighed again. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy with Frank, and the kids. I never thought I would be blessed like that again. But, it's just been too damn short. Oops; sorry. Don't tell your dads I swore."

Ilene was smiling up at Jody now, waving her chubby little arms around. "You're a little wriggler, aren't you?" Jody said, returning the baby's smile. "You're gonna be a live one, just like my Angela." Then her smile faded. "I wish I could be around to see that. But it's not looking like that'll happen."

She was silent for a moment. "You know, it's really weird, forgetting things like I do now," Jody told Ilene. "I go into the kitchen and stand there, realizing I have no idea how to make coffee. I forget people's names all the time now, too. I used to be able to remember everything about my men at the station house. Their wives' names, how old their kids were, what kind of pets they had, everything. I knew all their passwords, too. I used to tell them they'd better get the porn off the computer before I came on the floor. But for the most part, we had a pretty good relationship, I think. The key is mutual respect. Even though your uncles can be lunkheads sometimes, I expect you and Angela to grow up believing you can be anything, and anyone, that you want to be. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise, especially some man. Make sure you spend some time with your Aunt Gail. She ran for God, once." Jody laughed softly. "I know how strange that sounds. But, don't worry. When you get a little older, you'll realize that in our family, it's not strange at all."

Jody paused once more. "Do me a favour. Whatever you decide to do with your life, don't take one minute of it for granted. Because you're never guaranteed another one. Now I'll stop babbling, and let you get some sleep." She kissed Ilene on the forehead and lay the baby down in the crib, watching her for another minute or two. Then Jody left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Barry had chased Gail out of the kitchen, telling her the process would go much faster if she left him alone and let him do it. She made the token protest, but then she left him to his own devices. A few days ago, Liz had come to the house to try to teach Cas and Gail how to bake, with mixed results. Typically enough, Cas had loved it. If there was ever anything that Cas had never done before that he had the opportunity to learn, he was all over it. So he had rolled up his sleeves and watched Liz assemble the ingredients, and then when it had come time to mix the dough, he had dug into the bowl eagerly, kneading it with his hands. Boy, was he cute. Then it had been Gail's turn. Liz was trying to show her how to make strudel. Gail had whined that it was no fair; Cas had only had to make cookies. How hard was that? You stick them in an oven on a flat thing, and they basically bake themselves. But Liz was trying to get Gail to cut the dough, make the filling, roll it up, and then make the icing. She had to be kidding with that. So Gail had tried her best, but a few misshapen lumps later, she had to admit that baking was clearly not her forte.

Gail walked into the living room area, and little Angela approached her, carrying a book. "Auntie Gail, would you read with me for a few minutes?" she said, pulling on Gail's pant leg.

"Sure," Gail said, smiling. "What have you got, there?"

Angela showed her proudly, and Gail's mouth dropped open. It was the first book of the series about the boy wizard that Rob had read when he'd been little.

Gail looked at Frank. "She's reading THIS?" she asked her brother, astonished.

"Yeah," he responded. "They've kind of become a family tradition."

"Aren't they a bit advanced for her?" she inquired.

"Says the kid who was reading Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley before Kindergarten," he retorted.

"You were reading Dracula and Frankenstein before you even went to Kindergarten?" Sam asked Gail, open-mouthed.

Gail nodded. For a split second, she felt embarrassed, as though that was something to be ashamed of. And maybe, on some level, it was. Should a child of that age really have been reading such dark subject matter? Likely not. It was almost as if she'd been trying to prepare herself as early as possible for the kinds of things she would have to face later on. She would have to think a bit more on that, at some point.

But, not right now. Now it was Christmas, a time for fun and family togetherness. If her niece wanted to read a book about a boy wizard, why not? So Gail sat down on one of the couches and Angela sat next to her, reading aloud from the book. Gail was impressed by the fact that her young niece knew almost all of the words. Angela sounded out a couple of the bigger ones, and when she got to one that stumped her, Gail told her what it was, and what it meant. "Ohhhh," Angela said thoughtfully, nodding. "OK." Then she continued with her reading. Man, that was cute.

"When she gets stumped like that at home, she'll usually just go online and Google it, herself," Eric said, sitting down with the two of them. "But, Frank wouldn't let any of us bring any of our devices here. He said we were all gonna have to interact with each other, instead of looking down at a bunch of screens."

Gail smirked. "What a 'dad' thing to say," she remarked.

Eric grinned, nudging Angela. "I know, right?"

"Listen," Gail said, leaning closer to him. "If the craving becomes too much, I have a Tablet in the master bedroom, in the top drawer of my nightstand. Your Uncle Cas gave it to me as an early Christmas present. I play Candy Crush on it. Actually, I'm stuck on a level, right now. So, if you or Rob should happen to stumble across it and pass that level, we just won't tell Frank. OK?"

Eric laughed. "I might just take you up on that, later. But for right now, I'm good. Actually, Barry sent me to come and get you. I think he wants to know what you want him to make next, or something. So I'll take over, here."

Gail kissed Angela on the forehead, complimenting her niece on her reading skills. It had been really nice to revisit the land of magic again, through the eyes of yet another generation. She rose from the couch and made her way to the kitchen, passing a table in the dining room where a spirited game of Trivial Pursuit was taking place.

Emma, Milo, Sam, Tommy and Ethan were all playing the game, and Emma was doing very well for herself. This was the kind of game that was tailor-made for someone like her. All of her young life, Emma's brain had soaked up trivia like a sponge, until her head was full to bursting with obscure facts.

For example, she was telling Henri's grandfather now that his name, Milo, was believed to be derived from the Germanic word for "peaceful". Which was kind of ironic, Milo had joked gently, considering that the Germans he had fought in World War II had been far from peace-loving.

Then, Emma looked at Sam. The younger Winchester had decided to leave Dean and Frank to their own devices. They were well on their way to becoming snockered, but it was too early in the day for Sam. He loved Trivial Pursuit, too. It was kind of fun to show off his knowledge about various subjects and not be mocked, for a change.

But Sam might just have met his match in Emma, who said to him, "Did you know that your body is taller in the morning hours than in the evening hours?"

Sam was bemused. "No, I didn't. Why would that be?"

Emma pushed her glasses up against the bridge of her nose. "That's because the discs of the spine have excess fluid between them, but that fluid seeps out during the day, when you stand, and sit."

"So does that mean if Sam stayed in bed all day, he'd be even taller?" Tommy wisecracked.

"You're a writer, aren't you?" Emma asked Tommy.

"Uh...yeah," he replied, unsure of what that had to do with anything they'd been talking about.

"Did you know that the word for writer's block is 'colygraphia'?" she asked him, in an offhanded tone.

Tommy frowned. "Well, no, I didn't know that was the word for it. But unfortunately, I'm all too familiar with the phenomenon. I've been trying to write a book for a year or so now, and I just can't seem to come up with an original idea."

"Graham Greene would write 500 words a day and then stop, even if he was in the middle of a sentence," Emma remarked.

"I wonder if he was married. Then his wife could just come along, and finish all those sentences for him," Ethan wisecracked.

"I read somewhere that Truman Capote would often write laying on his back, with a glass of sherry in one hand," Milo chipped in.

"Well, there you go, then. Problem solved. I'll just stay in bed, drinking and writing unfinished sentences," Tommy said dryly, and then he looked at Sam. "And, as an extra added benefit, I'll be taller than I would have been, if I had gotten up."

Sam's lips were twitching, but Emma didn't seem to register. She'd moved on to Ethan now. "I read that some jurisdictions here on Earth can reject applicants for police officers who score too high on IQ tests," she told him. "They claim that the applicants who score too high could get bored with police work."

Ethan stared at her, open-mouthed. He didn't know if he should be amused, or insulted.

But as the game went on, Ethan found himself tied with Emma. Both Angels had the required six wedges, and they were now racing to the middle spot, for the question that would determine the winner of the game. Ethan got to the middle area first, and the others were debating which category the question should come from.

"He's too good at sports and science," Tommy remarked. "History, maybe?"

"I vote geography," Milo said.

It was agreed, and Sam read the question: "Where are the 'Rocky Steps'?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Game over. He's gonna know that."

Ethan sat there quietly for a moment, prolonging the suspense. Then, he started to smile. "The stone steps leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art are called the 'Rocky Steps', after the movie franchise," he said proudly. "There are 72 Rocky Steps, to be exact. I ought to know. When I was training for the Police Academy, I used to go there and run up them, just like Rocky. Boo-yah! I win!" He looked at Emma. "I guess not all of us cops have low IQs, after all."

Emma was embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I deserved that," she told him, smiling shyly. "Sometimes, I just say these things, without realizing how they sound."

"That's OK," Ethan said, smiling. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. I was just happy to have won the game. You guys are all pretty smart."

As the players started to pack up the game, the mood in the living room area was a bit more subdued. Henri, his grandmother Nanette, and Linda were sitting quietly, talking about the upcoming spring weddings. She and Paul had theirs pretty much set, Linda told them. And, as far as she knew, so did Laurel and Chuck. The events were scheduled a couple of weeks apart, so it would be a happy, busy time for the Angels. Both couples had made plans to have the festivities here on Earth, so that their human friends could come, too. Linda had been wrestling with the idea of inviting a couple of members of her family who were still living here on Earth.

Henri and Nanette exchanged glances. They knew that sometimes, reuniting with family could be a double-edged sword. For, as happy as Henri was to have been able to make his grandparents' acquaintance, and vice versa, sometimes things were better left alone. They didn't see Henri's parents here, did they? And there was a very good reason for that.

But Linda was a grown woman, and it was her business. Henri wondered about Paul's mother, now. Like Henri's own, Paul's mother was never spoken about. They all knew about Raphael by now, but who had his wife been, and what had become of her? Did Paul even know?

Frank and Dean were still drinking, but the subject matter of their conversation had turned. Now, they were talking about crappy Christmases they'd had on the road, when they were kids.

"One year, our dad was out Hunting, and I didn't think he was gonna be back for a couple of days," Dean was telling his friend. "So I put Sammy in front of the TV, slipped out of our motel room, and broke into a house in the neighbourhood. I stole a few presents from under their tree. They had so many, I figured they weren't gonna miss a couple."

"You know, that's kind of sad, kind of bad, and kind of cool, all at the same time," Frank commented.

Sam had come back to join them, handing both men fresh bottles of beer, and opening one for himself. "Actually, it's mostly sad," he said wryly. "The presents he took were for their daughter. I got a dress-up Barbie, and an easy-bake oven."

Frank and Dean looked at Sam, and then they looked at each other. Then, they burst out laughing.

Once Frank's laughter subsided, he said, "One year, I only had enough money for a pack of wrapping paper, and then I ran out. So I waited till Gail was asleep, and then I wrapped a library book and a couple of hair ribbons the lady at the motel gave me, and put them on the nightstand. That first year, I didn't have any money and I was still too chicken to steal, so I just told her Santa couldn't find us, 'cause we moved around so much."

The men were quiet now. They looked around the house. How far they had come, from those days. A huge tree, with mountains of gifts under it. Plates of food everywhere. Happy kids, running around. And Cas and Gail, smooching under the mistletoe.

Dean lifted his beer bottle, saluting Frank. "We did good, didn't we?"

"You sure did," Sam said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

While Ethan had been playing Trivial Pursuit, Carolyn had been keeping Karen and George company. The mother and son had been sitting quietly together, and Carolyn had felt a little sorry for them. She knew what it was like to be a bit of an outsider in the group, and some people were more outgoing than others. So she'd come over to talk to them, and after a few more minutes, Barry joined them. Gail had ordered him out of the kitchen, he stated. She appreciated everything he was doing, but she wanted him to have some fun, too. So he was telling George about giving singing lessons, and George was telling Barry that music was one of his favourite classes, because there was no homework. Barry had laughed, because that wasn't really true, of course. When he'd been in those shows, he'd had to learn all the songs and choreography, recite lines, take stage directions, and much, much more. But George and his friends were just kids, and they were Angels, to boot. It was easy to forget that fact. George seemed just like any other child, but the fact of the matter was, he wasn't. He would remain like this for eternity, while Peter, Ilene and Angela would grow older, into adults. It was so bizarre. Maybe that was why George was so introverted; because he knew that he was different. Well, so what? Barry was different, too. All throughout his school years, Barry had been ostracized by most of the other kids, because he was gay. But, look at him now. Part of a huge family. Loved and accepted. Married, and a dad. He would try to make sure that George felt just as accepted.

"Here, let me help you with that," Hester said to Cas. He was clearing dishes from the dining room and wrapping some of the food that remained. After their "canoodling break", as Gail had deemed it, the two of them had gone their separate ways, to do hosting duties.

"Thank you, Hester," Cas said to Chuck's sister. The two of them walked into the kitchen, and Cas looked around. "I think I will start loading the dishwashers," Cas said. He smiled. "Just as Bobby gave us more ovens to do baking and cook turkeys with, Gail asked him for more dishwashers, too. She said she didn't want to be standing in here for three days, constantly waving her arms like an orchestra conductor."

Hester smiled too, forming that mental picture in her head. It had taken a bit of getting used to, being around a family with all of these Angels in it. Chuck seldom used his powers around his sister. He'd told her that he had learned a lot of lessons about power during his reformation journey. Just because you could do something, didn't mean that you should, necessarily.

"Can I ask you something, Cas?" Hester said. She began to scrape the plates and rinse them, handing them to him to load into the dishwasher. That had been another thing to get used to. Cas was just Cas now, not the Almighty God any more. Bobby was God, but he insisted on everyone calling him by his first name, only.

"Certainly, Hester," Cas said affably.

She paused for a moment, then said, "I would like to talk to you about Chuck. As you know, he and I were estranged for quite a few years. Do you think that he has truly reformed? He used to be so..."

Cas paused in the act of what he was doing so that he could look at her. "Yes. Yes, I really do, Hester," he replied. "And I don't say that lightly. I truly believe that he is a good person now." He smiled grimly. "Love is what saves us. You might be surprised to learn that Chuck and I aren't all that different from each other. There was a point in my existence when I wasn't a very nice individual, either."

Hester stared at him. "But, you were God," she said, dazed.

"Yes, and you will note that I am not, any longer," Cas said soberly. "We all have to find our truth, Hester. I have found mine, and I believe Chuck has found his, too."

As Hester was pondering the depth of what Cas was saying, her brother was sitting with Paul and Peter on another of the couches in the living room. Paul was showing little Peter how to use the controller, to play a video game. Rob had brought his old system over and hooked it up to the TV, in case anybody'd wanted to play.

Peter was enthralled. They didn't have a gaming system in his house. Paul was showing the young boy how to fly an airplane in the game. He figured he'd be best to stay away from the weapons and the killing until Peter got a little older. And if Gail happened to come by and saw them picking up any questionable-looking women in the car, she would likely dump the sandwiches in Paul's lap, and bash him upside the head with the tray.

Chuck was smiling, watching the two of them, but it was a bittersweet smile. He was remembering the times when Efram and Riley used to play video games with the group, too. They were conspicuously absent from these festivities. Still, it was nice to look around and see different groups of people, interacting with each other. Angels and humans, men and women, black, white, Asian, and gay. Chuck looked over at Linda, who had joined Frank and Dean's group, along with Nicole and Jody. The talk about past Christmases had expanded to include the ladies, and Jody was happily regaling them with the story of the guy who'd kept coming into the station house one year, swearing that the Santa Claus at the mall was a terrorist. Then, Nicole had piped up, telling the group that when she'd been a kid, her parents had played an old vinyl record every Christmas season called "Santa Jaws". The songs had all been parodies of Christmas carols, but with sharks in the lyrics. The one she remembered the best was "It maimed upon a midnight clear". Frank laughed so hard at that he'd nearly fallen off his chair. Then Linda said that her father had dragged her and her mother to every mall in town one year, looking for an Asian Santa. Finally, he'd found one. Linda had thought that was kind of neat at the time, but a few years later, her mother had confessed that she had grown so tired of running around town that she'd called her uncle and asked him to go to the next mall on the list and bribe the Santa there to borrow his costume for half an hour.

Linda was laughing at the memory now. "And the kicker was, I should have known, because he called me and my parents by name, and he told me to tell my mother to make donji patjuk for Sunday dinner, because it was her uncle's favourite! I mean, come on! What was he, Psychic Santa, or something? How could he possibly have known that? But I guess I was too young to clue in. All because my dad was too racist to take me to a white Santa."

"Or, maybe he just wanted you to feel included," Dean stated. Linda looked at him in surprise. She'd never really thought about it like that before.

Chuck was still looking over at the group. He felt badly about the little tiff he and Linda had had when Paul had been away. "So, you and me, getting married in the spring, huh?" he said to Paul now.

The black Angel grinned. "Well, you might want to rephrase that a bit, but, yeah," he said, nodding. "Pretty cool."

"Hey, look! I'm doing it!" Peter exclaimed. He was proud of himself. He'd been flying the pretend plane for a couple of minutes now without crashing it.

"Yeah, you are," Paul said, giving him a gentle nudge. "Good job, my man."

Laurel came over and sat beside Chuck. He put his arm around her, giving her a squeeze. "I was talking to Linda a while ago, and she told me that, since our weddings are so close together, we might as well combine our stag-ette," Laurel told the men. "I said it made sense to me. Maybe you guys should do the same for your bachelor parties."

Chuck and Paul exchanged glances. Truthfully, they hadn't really thought about anything like that. Paul raised an eyebrow. It was kind of funny to think about Angels having those kinds of parties. They didn't really drink as a rule, and they'd sure as hell better not even think about getting any strippers. So what would they even DO, then?

"Maybe we'll talk to Cas about that," Chuck said. "You weren't around then, Paul, but I was at his bachelor party, and it wasn't half-bad."

Liz had popped outside to the back porch for a minute to get a breath of cool air. With all those people in the house and all the baking that had been going on, it was really quite warm in there now. The porch had an overhang, so she wasn't getting snowed on. It was still snowing outside, but it was just a light, gentle snowfall now. She looked out at the big back yard, smiling. They were certainly not going to have a shortage of snow tomorrow, for the big competition. She was really looking forward to it. Liz hadn't been around for the first one, but she thought it would be a really fun way to get everyone involved in an activity, all together.

"Hey, Liz." Kevin stepped out onto the porch, standing beside her. "I hope I didn't startle you. I just wanted to come out and look at the snow, for a minute."

She smiled. "It's great, isn't it? That's one of the things I miss, being in Heaven sometimes. Weather." She looked at him. "Hey, you were in that first snowman-building competition here, weren't you?"

He answered her smile. "Yep. It was a lot of fun. This year's gonna be great, too, with more people, and more teams."

The two of them were quiet for a moment, and then Kevin said, "When Gabriel asked you out for the first time, what did he say?"

Liz regarded the younger Angel, and then she laughed. "He DIDN'T ask. He TOLD me we were going to get together. I told him he was dreaming. So things went back and forth like that for a while, until finally, he just wore me down. I wouldn't recommend that approach, though." She put her hand on Kevin's arm. "What are you really trying to ask me, Kevin?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Liz. I'm confused. I went out with Becky for a while, and that ended badly. So then, I thought I might be gay. But now, I like Emma. I don't know what's going on with me, Liz."

She looked him in the eyes, smiling sadly. "Well, whoever you decide to be, make sure that's who you REALLY are, and not just who you think you should be, because you're afraid of disappointing other people." Liz sighed. "Before I died, my younger sister told me that she thought she might be gay. But, because we had an old-world family, she didn't think she could work up the nerve to come out to them. I told her she should do what made her feel comfortable, but that life was too short not to live her best life. Look at what happened to me. There are a lot of things I regret about the way I lived my life. I should have divorced that jerk and married a decent guy, before it was too late. Maybe had a kid, or two. But I didn't do that, and then I died. Look what's happening with Jody, right now. You've got to live your best life, Kevin, because you never know. And don't say we're Angels, because that doesn't make a difference. Look at Efram, and Riley. Did you know that Gabriel once had a son? But now he doesn't, and I know that he seems like the last guy you'd think of to be a dad, but...I just wish that he and I could have been given that chance, you know?" Tears sprang to Liz's eyes now, and she laughed shortly. "I'm sorry, Kevin. I don't know where that came from."

The young Angel reached out and pulled Liz to him for a hug. Kevin was glad he'd come out here, now. "You know what? I feel like we just became good friends," he said, and Liz sniffled. She pulled out of the embrace, smiling at him. "Me, too," she said warmly.

Nicole had moved to sit in Dean's lap now, and he was cuddling her as they continued to talk and laugh with the ever-expanding group of people around them. Cas and Gail had joined them now, and the host and hostess were having a glass of wine.

"Hey, Cas, tell us about the very first Christmas," Tommy said, pulling up a chair. "Don't be coy. We know you were there."

"Is that your cell phone, or are you just happy to be in my lap?" Dean teased Nicole.

Oh, crap. She had her cell phone in her jeans pocket, set to Vibrate. She'd contemplated not even bringing it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to go that far. Just like that other Christmas here, years ago, she had been put on notice that her Grandpa in Ottawa might not last much longer. The staff at the nursing home sure knew how to brighten up the holidays, she thought sarcastically. But it was hard to take the dire warnings all that seriously, because they'd been making them for the better part of a decade now. Still, she'd felt duty-bound to bring the phone with her, just in case.

Nicole wriggled off Dean's lap and took her phone out of her pocket, moving down the hallway a bit to answer it away from the noise of all the people gathered in the living room. A few minutes later, she came back into the room quietly, her phone still in her hand.

"Everything OK?" Dean asked her, as the group fell silent.

"My grandfather died," Nicole replied, dazed. "He actually died." She started to babble. "I told them to check, and make sure. I mean, he's been at Death's door for - "

Nicole froze. They were all looking at her now. Oh, my God. That hadn't come out right at all. "I mean, I'm sad, but this wasn't completely unexpected," she said, and it felt like Frank and Jody's eyes were boring holes into her now. Considering what was going on with Jody, Nicole felt like she was negotiating a verbal minefield, here. She mumbled an apology, rushing from the room.

Dean sprang from his chair, following his girlfriend down the hall. Nicole went to the room that was supposed to have been hers and Dean's, grabbing her overnight bag from the floor.

"I have to leave," she told him, and now the tears were starting to come. "Tell everybody I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Dean put his arms around Nicole and held her as she cried. "Dammit! I don't know what's wrong with me!" she exclaimed. "I've been expecting this call for years. I don't know why..."

"He was your family," Dean said softly. "Of course you're gonna be sad. I get that."

"You'd think he would have had the decency to wait until after Christmas," she said, trying to laugh. "Geez, between him and Lucifer, a girl can't catch a break around here."

Dean knew what Nicole was trying to do now. She was trying to use humour to cover her pain. The trouble was, he could see right through her. He kissed her as she tried to wipe the tears away with her hands. "I have to go, to make the arrangements," she told Dean almost pleadingly. "I'm all he had left."

"Do you want me to go with you?" he offered.

Nicole touched his face. "No, you need to stay here, with your family," she said to him. "I have to go and do the right thing by mine now, but your family needs you here, Dean. Thanks, though." She kissed him again, and then she grabbed her bag.

"OK, I'll go get Cas, and he'll take you wherever you need to go," Dean said, but Nicole shook her head.

"No, Dean. I want Gail to do it. Please," she said to him. "I'll wait here."

Dean looked at her for another moment, and then he left the room. Gail came a minute later. She was alone.

"I'm so sorry about your grandfather," Gail said, and Nicole nodded, thanking her. "Can you take me to my apartment in Vancouver, please?" Dean's girlfriend asked the Angel.

Gail took her by the hand, and then they were standing in Nicole's living room. She put her bag down on the floor, turning to Gail.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," Nicole apologized. "Please, tell your family I didn't mean to be so insensitive."

Gail nodded. She'd figured this was the reason that Nicole had asked for her, instead of Cas. "Don't worry; they'll understand," she assured their friend. "You just lost a loved one. That's a difficult thing to go through. And hey, as far as stuff that comes out of your mouth goes, you're talking to the expert. You wouldn't believe the things I've said before, under stressful situations. We've all done it. Listen, I'm really sorry for your loss, Nicole. And I'm sorry you won't get a chance to open your presents with everyone. We'll save them for you. Do you want me to take you to Ottawa?"

"No, it's okay. I have to make a few calls, first. Then I'm going to pack some more stuff and book a flight. Like I told Dean, you need to be with your family right now, and I need to go take care of what was left of mine."

Gail nodded. "OK. But please, call us if you need anything."

Nicole assured her that she would. The two women hugged. "Merry Christmas, Gail," Dean's girlfriend said. Gail looked at her for another moment. "Merry Christmas, Nicole," she responded. Then Gail popped out of Nicole's apartment. Dean's girlfriend sighed deeply, then went to her bedroom to begin packing.

There had been more drinks, then an evening meal, and then a couple of movies. Most of them were gathered in the living room with pillows and blankets, watching the selected films, cuddling with their loved ones. Then, bit by bit, everyone started drifting off to their rooms. Gail had insisted that everyone stay the night, even the Angels. But because Angels didn't sleep, she had paired them up so they would have at least one other Angel to talk to, and she made sure they had TVs and books in their rooms. But no one was to come out until the morning, she and Cas had said sternly.

Once it was just the host and hostess left in the living room, they popped up to Cas's office in Heaven, where he'd been keeping the extra presents. They brought them to the house, arranging them under and around the tree. Then, once that was done, Gail asked Cas to have a seat on the couch.

She picked up one of the presents and brought it over to him. "Since you gave me one of mine early, I thought I would do the same," she said, putting the box on his lap and sitting beside him. "Merry Christmas, sweetie."

Cas smiled. He looked down at the present for a moment. The concept of receiving wrapped gifts was still new to him, and he wanted to savour the experience.

Then he opened the present, smiling again once he saw what it was. "I love it," he said, lifting the robe out of the box.

"Do you, really?" Gail asked him. "Sam told me you really seemed to like that fluffy robe at the spa, and I know you like to keep warm, and..."

"I love it," Cas repeated. He did, too. What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. He stood and removed his shirt, putting the robe on.

"Does it fit OK?" Gail fretted.

"It's wonderful," Cas assured her. He felt the material. It was very soft. He sat back down and took her hands in his. "Thank you, my darling. It's soft, and warm. Just as you are," he added, smiling gently. He took her in his arms, kissing her on the lips. "Now when you and I are cuddling, I'll have something to wrap us both in," he told her.

Gail was silent for a moment, enjoying the embrace. Then she said, "I hope he likes his, too."

Cas nodded. He knew what his wife was referring to, of course. She had mentioned it when they had been discussing what sorts of gifts they should get for various members of the family. "I think it was very kind of you to do that," he told her now.

Gail shrugged. "Either that, or I'm just a big sucker. Remember, I also bought Crowley that tie, in an inexplicable moment of misplaced sentiment." She laughed shortly. "Turns out I probably should have just choked him with it."

Cas was quiet, and then he looked her in the eyes. "Oh, I don't know about that," he said thoughtfully. "Ordinarily, I would agree with you, but...maybe, because it's Christmas, we can put such thoughts aside for a few days. 'Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me'."

Gail studied her husband's face. What a contradiction he was, sometimes. She had never met anyone so complex. An Angel. A troubled individual. A fierce warrior, with a temper. A soft-hearted guy, who liked diapering babies and cried at movies. An enigmatic person, who had seen more of history than anyone else in existence, save for the aforementioned Crowley, and for God Himself. A fish out of water, both on Earth and in Heaven. A leader, a lover, and a friend. Her husband.

"I love you so much, Cas," Gail said to him.

"I was about to say the very same thing to you," Cas said, kissing her lightly on the nose. That made Gail smile. It always made her smile. Cas stood, extending his hand to her. "Let's go cuddle," he said, and the two of them went down the hall to the master bedroom.

Andy was astonished. A package, for him?

The orderly handed him the box. It was still in the wrapping. There was even a ribbon around it, and a tag with Andy's name on it. No "From", though, only: "To Andy".

"Sorry; I'll need that ribbon," the orderly said to Andy, waiting patiently as Andy gaped at the box. They had run the thing through the X-ray machine, of course, establishing there was nothing harmful within the box. Still, the ribbon could be used as a choking device. Whoever had wrapped the present had obviously not thought of something like that. But that was okay; the patient could still have the joy of opening a present. Very few patients in here could say the same.

Andy slipped the ribbon off the present and handed it to the orderly. Then he took the wrapped box over to his bed and sat down with it on his lap, just touching it. "I never..." he started to say, and then he stopped, unable to continue.

"Merry Christmas," the orderly said. He left Andy's room with the ribbon in his pocket, smiling faintly. It was kind of nice that somebody had sent the old guy something. Most of the patients in here were lonely and forgotten, even at Christmastime. He wondered how sad that must feel for the ones who still had enough marbles to even know what time of year it was.

Andy continued to touch the box, and then he began to unwrap the present slowly, almost reverently. He had never received a Christmas gift, not one, in all his years here. Who would give someone like him a gift?

He opened the box and took the robe out, holding it up. It was plush, and soft. Brand new. For him? He couldn't get over it. For him.

He crushed the robe to him, hugging it tightly, feeling its softness against his cheek. Then he started to cry. A Christmas gift? For him? Who could have sent it? He checked the box, the wrapping...no clue. He hugged the robe again. Whoever had sent this to Andy had no idea what this meant to him. No idea.

He took off his ratty old robe and threw it on the floor. Then he pulled his new robe on, tying it at the waist. He felt the material envelop him. It was so soft. "Thank you," he said aloud. "I love it. Thank you."

He laid down on his bed, hugging himself so he could continue to feel how soft his new gift was. And when Andy fell asleep, he was crying and smiling, at the same time.


	5. Snow Jobs

Chapter 5 - Snow Jobs

Christmas Day dawned the way that every Christmas Day should: with kids running around the house yelling with excitement, and adults in robes running their hands over their faces, saying it was way too early to be up.

Cas and Gail's house had both required elements. George, Peter and Angela were running around the tree, yelling out the names on all of the presents. With the innate shrewdness that only kids seemed to have when it came to Christmas gifts, they'd immediately seen that there were more presents now than there'd been when they'd gone to bed.

"'To George, From Santa'," the Angel read aloud, and he looked thoughtful. The boy had been taken from his human life at the age when children are beginning to question certain things that they had always imagined to be true. But Peter and Angela believed, with every fibre of their being, so George judiciously let it drop.

Jody was having another good day. She accepted the cup of coffee Frank had given her with a kiss for her husband, and she and Barry were now trying to wrangle the kids to sit down in the living room and wait for everyone else to arrive. But it was like trying to contain wild mustangs, so at a certain point, they gave up, hugging and saluting each other with their coffee mugs.

"Dad! Daddy!" Angela was yelling with excitement. She ran into the kitchen, tugging on Frank's robe. "Come into the living room! Please! Santa brought us presents!"

"'Cause the dozens that we all bought you apparently aren't good enough," Frank said with a grin.

"Daddee! Stop being funny, and come ON!" Angela insisted.

"I didn't know he'd ever started," Dean said to the little girl. He had a bit of a big head this morning, but Dean didn't care. This was it, right here. This was what it was all about. He and Sam and Gail had all had their traditional "special coffee" toast. Then Cas had joined them, then Frank, then Tommy, then Bobby. They could hear the Angels in the living room, all chattering excitedly now. Who knew that a guy like Dean could find that sound so comforting? He picked Angela up, nuzzling her face. "Merry Christmas, Angela," Dean said to her. "Give your Uncle Dean a kiss."

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, you have to come and see the presents!" She wriggled in his arms, so Dean let her back down on the floor. Then Angela ran over to Cas and grabbed his hand. "You have to come see!" she insisted, tugging on him.

Cas smiled. "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose we have no choice," he said mildly. "Lead on."

"We'll be right there," Gail said to her husband's retreating back, as he let the little girl lead him out of the room.

"Sucker," Frank said good-naturedly, holding his mug out for a refill. "He wouldn't last a day in my house. She'd have him jumping through hoops and balancing a ball on his nose before breakfast."

"What makes you think things are any different in this house?" Bobby wisecracked, looking at Gail.

"Really?" she said dryly, refilling their coffee mugs. "On Christmas morning, in my own house?"

Bobby's beard twitched. Dean wasn't the only one who was feeling the warmth of the family Christmas spirit this morning. Of course, part of that warmth could be the liqueur that Sam was pouring liberally into their coffees, too. But, who the hell cared? It was Christmas.

"We'd better get in there, before those kids have a meltdown," Frank stated, but Gail grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

"Everybody, go ahead," she instructed. "We'll be there in a minute."

The men all trooped out of the kitchen, and Gail put her mug down on the counter, looking up at her brother. "That's a pretty big job you've got out there this year," she said to him. "Do you want a helper?"

He looked at her, grinning. "Well, you're about the right size for an elf, anyway. Sure, kiddo. You can help. We'd better get this going. After this, we have to make breakfast, and those snowmen aren't going to build themselves. There are also turkeys to stuff, and shove in those fourteen ovens you got God to install."

Gail smirked. Frank was exaggerating, but not by much. However, she wanted to set him straight about something: "You're not going to make breakfast, or do any household stuff," she told him sternly. "You're going to enjoy Christmas with your family, and make bad jokes. That's what you're going to do. I have Cas, and Barry, and God himself, if need be. And, if I need even more help than that, I've got Gabriel. You know he's got to be busting a gut, watching us do everything the human way. Maybe I should just let him loose, and let him do his thing. It would certainly save me a lot of work."

"You? Work?" her brother scoffed. "Yeah, right. The only heavy lifting I'm seeing you do is drinking that heavily-laced coffee." Then Frank smirked. "Sure. Go ahead. Get Gabriel to do everything, if you want your Christmas dinner to look like Wednesday afternoon at Hooter's."

The siblings stood there for a minute, and then they burst out laughing. Frank pulled her to him for a hug. "Thanks for all this," he said to her. "It really means a lot to us. To me."

Gail held her brother for an extra moment, squeezing him, hard. Then she came out of the embrace. Both she and Frank quickly wiped their eyes with the backs of their hands. "Hey. There's no crying at the North Pole," Gail quipped lightly. "Now lead on, Boss. And enjoy that, 'cause it's the one and only time you'll ever hear it from me."

"My first Christmas present of the day," Frank rhapsodized, grabbing his mug from the counter. "Come on,..." He paused. "Quick, name me a famous elf."

Gail thought for a second. "Will Ferrell?"

Frank laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, no. We'll think of something." He smiled warmly. "Merry Christmas, kiddo."

"Merry Christmas, Santa," she responded.

They left the kitchen.

"Hey! 'Elf MacPherson'! Smile for the camera," Barry called out to Gail halfway through the opening of the presents, and she struck an exaggerated pose.

"You know, I'm ashamed that neither of us thought of that," she said to her brother, poking him playfully.

"Never mind that; we should have put you in an elf costume," Frank said. "Then I wouldn't be the most ridiculous-looking person in the room."

"I think you look very pretty, Frank-ina," Gabriel commented.

Somewhere during the process, Angela had decided to decorate her father, so between opening presents, the little girl had been draping tinsel on him. Then she had affixed a few bows on him and wrapped some ribbons around him, and for the crowning touch, she had taken a handful of icicles from the tree and sprinkled them on his head. Frank had borne all of this with the quiet dignity of any father whose daughter had ever suggested that they play Princesses together.

"Says the guy who paraded around Saqqara in a dress," Paul said to Gabriel, and Gail laughed, high-fiving him as she continued to hand out the presents that Frank was handing to her.

"Yeah, but I looked fabulous," Gabriel retorted with a grin.

Gail sat down on the floor with Angela, handing her niece another present. "This is a very special one that your Uncle Cas and I got for you when we were in the Caribbean," Gail told the girl.

Angela held the strangely-shaped gift on her lap. She sat looking at it curiously for a moment, and then she tore eagerly at the wrapping. "Elephant!" she shouted excitedly. "Daddy! It's an elephant!"

Gail and Cas exchanged smiles. Cas knew his wife had been especially excited to give their niece the stuffed elephant that Cas had won from the claw machine at the casino.

Angela hugged the elephant to her. She ran over to Jody to show her. Her mother smiled at Gail, who rose from the floor to hand out more presents.

"I'm gonna name him 'Poochie'," Angela told Jody.

"Poochie?" Sam asked the little girl. "Why Poochie?"

"That's from that minions movie," Jody told him, and Dean smirked. "Are we sure she doesn't mean 'Pookie'?" he said, looking at Frank.

"Hey, I may look like a walking Christmas tree right now, but that doesn't mean I can't still kick your ass, Winchester," Frank said good-naturedly.

"Oh, yeah? You and what forest?" Dean retorted, and Gail laughed, high-fiving him on the way by. That had actually been very witty.

"Thank you!" Angela exclaimed. She ran over to Cas, who was sitting in one of the big armchairs. "Say hi to my Uncle Cas," she said to Poochie, sitting on the arm of the chair beside him. "He used to be God, but now, Grandpa is God. And there's a whole bunch of Angels here, too. But don't worry; I'll introduce you to everyone, later."

Frank was looking at Gail. "And the rich tradition continues," he said to his sister. "It's you and Ralph, all over again."

Gail was smiling widely. She hoped that was true. Until her stupid father had taken a large chunk of her innocence by making Frank's mother burn all of her stuffed animals, she'd spent many a wonderful hour, hanging around with her best friend, Ralph the stuffed penguin. She wished Angela and Poochie many long years of happiness together.

After the presents were all opened, the Angels popped their gifts back to Heaven as Cas and Gail and Barry and Tommy began to prepare breakfast. Ethan was feeding little Ilene. He hadn't gotten the chance to do much baby stuff with George, he'd told the men, and besides, they were working so hard.

"OK, but don't come complaining to us when she spits up on your shirt," Tommy said to him.

"Are you kidding? I used to be a police officer, in Philadelphia," Ethan replied with a smile. "I've seen every bodily fluid there is, believe me."

"OK, first of all, ewww," Eric joked. "And, secondly, tell me more."

"How's Nicole?" Gail asked Dean. "Did you talk to her this morning?"

"Yeah," he told her. "She wished everybody a Merry Christmas, and she said she really wished she could be here with all of us. I offered to go with her, again, but she insisted I should be here. She's one hell of a woman, Gail."

She hugged him impulsively. "You know what, Dean? I really think she is," Gail said, nodding. "Now, help me clean up some of this wrapping paper, so we can start serving breakfast."

"Don't worry; I've got this," he told her, grabbing one of the big garbage bags Cas was holding. "You guys just go get that breakfast out. I'm starving."

Gail gave Dean a quick kiss on the cheek as he and Frank and Sam all started to gather up the wrapping paper that was strewn all over the living room. Dean noted with pleasure that George and Peter already had their Happy Fun Whatevers out of the box, and they were playing robots. Then along came Angela, dragging Poochie by his trunk. George opened her robot toy for her, being a little gentleman, and showed her how it worked. Angela watched with interest, holding Poochie as if he needed to look and learn, too. Then all three kids started playing with the robot toys, and Dean beamed proudly. No matter how many monsters or Demons he had killed or would kill in the future, he never felt like more of a hero than when he saw those kids, playing happily together with the toys that he had gotten for them.

After breakfast was concluded, Cas came out into the living room, holding a bag with folded-up pieces of paper in it. "We'll do the draw for the snowman-building teams, now," he announced. "There will be 6 teams, and two judges. The luck of the draw will determine who fulfills what role." He extended the bag to Dean, who happened to be the person standing closest to him at the moment.

Dean drew a slip of paper. "Hey, what do you know? I picked myself. Good choice," their friend said, smirking.

"Keep picking, until your team has five members," Cas said to him.

"OK," Dean said affably. He dug his whole arm into the bag, mixing up the pieces of paper. He drew them out, one at a time. "Angela." The little girl jumped up and down excitedly. "Barry. Karen. And, Jody."

"Very good," Cas said. He moved on to Kevin, who picked Nanette, Becky, Peter, Henri, and himself.

"Hmmm. I sense a theme, here," Cas mused aloud. He looked at Hester. "You're next," he told her. Cas wanted to make sure that everyone felt included. Hester drew Linda, Eric, George, Chuck, and herself.

Then Cas extended the bag to Milo. "Gail, Ilene, me, Laurel, and Gabriel," Henri's grandfather announced to everyone. Gail was startled. Ilene? She was just a baby. Then she realized that, with Nicole gone, they had an uneven number of people for the teams. Either that, or Cas had just put the baby's name in to be inclusive. In any event, Gail supposed it didn't really matter. Ilene aside, her team was comprised of all Angels, so the shortage of one person shouldn't make all that much difference.

Rob drew next, and he picked his own name. What were the odds? He also picked Frank, Tommy, Bobby, and Sam. "Hey, we've got God on our side," the young man quipped. "And, for once, that's not even a metaphor."

Cas smiled. "And now, Liz will pick the last team. Due to Nicole's unexpected and unfortunate absence, it will have only four members. Then the two names left will be the judges."

Liz picked Emma, Carolyn, herself, and Cas.

"Congratulations to Paul and Ethan, who will be our judges," Cas announced, showing everyone the final two names from the bag. He handed both men pens and clipboards with paper on them to take notes with. Gail had been more than organized this year. "After the teams have had a few moments to confer, they will each elect a Captain, and think of a team name. The judges will record the information, and then make any notes they deem important about the creations," Cas continued.

"Props are encouraged, and imagination will be rewarded," Gail chipped in, "but the snowmen - or women - have to be built the human way. Any questions?" Everyone was silent. "No? Then, let's go frolic, everybody!"

Dean's team had elected Karen as their Captain. It only made sense, since she was a schoolteacher and both Angela and Dean were children, Jody had wisecracked, and then she and Barry high-fived. Dean had scowled momentarily, but he couldn't say too much about it. Frankly, it was good to see Jody being her old, spunky self. Too many times in recent months, she had been like the child, when she forgot how to do things, or even forgot their names. Dean knew which version of Jody he preferred.

"What's our team name gonna be, Angela?" Dean asked the little girl. "Joy To The World!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah, and all that junk," Dean said, nodding. "Good. Now that the stupid stuff's out of the way, I've got an idea for our snowman."

It was a little bit weird for Kevin to be on the same team as Becky, but he had to remind himself that he had gotten over her a long time ago. And anyway, it was no weirder than being on the same team as Henri and Nanette, who was Henri's grandmother, but who actually looked younger than he did. Their team voted for Nanette as their Captain, and their team name was Away In A Manger. Like Dean's team, they had deferred to their youngest member for the name, and the first Christmas carol that Peter had been able to think of had been Away In A Manger. But that particular song was very appropriate for her current situation, Becky thought. She resisted the urge to put her hand on her stomach for the umpteenth time. If anybody saw, they would misunderstand, and she wasn't ready to make her announcement just yet. She and Vincent had agreed that it should be tonight, when they all sat down to dinner.

Chuck had ended up the Captain of his team, and he was glad that Hester was with him. Like Karen, Chuck's sister was a bit of an outsider as far as the group dynamic went. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about her having a couple or three, and perhaps touching a couple of the men inappropriately, like she'd done at his and Laurel's cocktail party to celebrate their engagement. The wedding might be a different story, or even later tonight, if Hester had a bit too much Christmas cheer. But he would worry about that later, if he had to.

They decided on The Herald Angels Sing for their team name, after Linda made the standard joke about who Harold was, and why was he singing. She and Chuck smiled at each other. Last night, each had apologized to the other for the little dust-up they'd had when Paul had been in Saqqara.

Gail was the Captain of her team, and Gabriel had insisted on the name of Glory In The Highest. Laurel was a little bit more used to the way he was by now, but Milo was bemused by the Archangel. From what Milo had been given to understand, there was a long-standing system of Angel hierarchy in Heaven. God was like the CEO, and the Archangels were like the Vice Presidents. The longer-serving Angels came next, based more or less on a seniority system. Cas was the highest-ranking of those, being one of only a handful of surviving Seraphs. It was common knowledge now that Cas had had a number of identities since Creation, the most shocking of which had been Abel, the opposite number to his brother Crowley, who had been Cain. Technically, that made Crowley a high-ranking officer of Heaven, too. It was enough to make your head spin, Milo and Henri had agreed, when they'd been talking about the subject. In a way, Paul was a sort of Crown Prince, as Raphael's son. However, after his desertion of Heaven and subsequent status as a Demon, Paul had had a giant hole to climb out of, as far as ranking went. Henri and his grandfather acknowledged being quite familiar with that particular dynamic, as black men having had to compete with whites, in past eras. However, Paul was one black man who had brought that situation upon himself by his actions, they'd acknowledged.

Oh, and Milo's team Captain, Gail, fit in there somewhere too, although her status was less clear. It had seemed as if the original God had wanted to fast-track a promotion for her, so He had designated her as an Original, a status that had only been granted to four other Angels before, all men. Besides Cas and Crowley, the other members of the Originals had been Lucifer and Metatron, but the two of them were dead now.

While Milo was thinking about all that, Castiel the Seraph was concerned with more mundane matters. The ladies of his team had elected him Captain, despite his protests, and now they were trying to come up with a team name. Emma, who seemed to be discovering a latent competitive streak she hadn't known she had, was lobbying to see if Cas would release either Paul or Ethan from their judging duty. She pointed out that, due to Nicole's unforeseen departure, their team was a body short. Cas told her that, while he saw her point, he and Gail had agreed that there should be more than one judge. That way, it would be more likely for the picking of the winner to be impartial. Not only that, but a lone judge might feel more "on the spot". If Paul was the only judge, wouldn't he be more inclined to want to pick Linda's team? And Ethan would have even more of a dilemma, because his wife and child were on two separate teams.

So Cas had reiterated those points to Emma, but as they started to discuss team names, the bespectacled Angel was having a bit of a hard time letting it go. "I guess we're Team Shorthanded, then," she said glumly.

Cas was regarding her now, and his lips were starting to purse. If Gail had been paying attention to them and not her team's concept for their snowman, she could have warned Emma about that look of Cas's. It meant that he was getting annoyed, at the very least. But it was Christmas, and Cas was determined to be patient. So he pointed out to Emma that Gail's team had Ilene on it, and since Ilene could only successfully waddle a few steps before falling down, it could convincingly be argued that Gail's team was a person down, too. Yet, they didn't hear her complaining.

"Yes, but she's got Gabriel on her team, and I'd keep a close eye on him, if I were you," Liz said to Cas with a smile. "I guarantee you, there's no way he's not thinking up about a hundred ways to cheat, right now."

Cas frowned a little, looking at his Brother. Gabriel had that calculating look on his face right now as he stood looking at his team members. Of course, to be fair, Gabriel always had that same kind of look on his face.

"Awww, man," Emma groaned. "He's an Archangel. We don't stand a chance."

Cas sighed. If he wasn't careful, he was going to have a mutiny on his hands in a minute. He walked over to where Gail's team stood.

"Excuse me, I'd like to propose a trade," Cas said in a voice that was loud enough for his team to hear. "I will join your team, and Gabriel can go over to mine."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Gabe was looking at Cas suspiciously now. "Why?" he said. Then he looked at Gail, and then back at Cas again. "Waaaaiiiit a minute," the Archangel said slowly. I smell a rat. You and Gail are up to something."

"No; we're pretty sure it's YOU who's up to something," Liz piped up.

"Me?" Gabriel said innocently. "Now, why on earth would you think that? I just think that Cas and Gail want to be on the same team so they can make out a little. Or a lot. And there might be some collusion going on, on THEIR part. Anybody ever think of that?"

Everyone looked at each other. "Uhhhh...no," Bobby said dryly.

"OK, well, I'm staying right here," Gabriel said stubbornly. "Nice try, Cas."

As Cas tried to work out exactly what his Brother thought he had been trying to accomplish, Carolyn sighed and said, "Come on, Emma. How about we just name our team Let It Snow?"

Emma shrugged. It was as good a name as any.

Bobby's team of men had elected him Captain, and they had named their team Season's Greetings. Paul and Ethan had been going around to all the teams, duly writing down the Captains' names and Christmas-themed team titles.

"Hey, I guess we should think up a name for our little team, too," Paul said to his partner. "We could be Team Lethal Weapon, maybe."

"Stir Crazy?" Ethan suggested.

The two of them finished up and went to the back porch. "Team 1 is led by my beautiful wife," Ethan announced to everyone. "What's your team name?"

"Joy To The World, And All That Junk!" Angela exclaimed, and most of the assembled group laughed. "Gee, I wonder who added that last part," Chuck said dryly.

"Yeah, Angela, how COULD you?" Dean said, smiling down at her.

"Uncle Dean did it!" Angela told everyone.

"Ixnay," Dean muttered. "Nobody likes a snitch, kiddo."

The judges continued to announce the team names, and when they got to Gail's, Frank rolled his eyes. "Glory In The Highest?" he said incredulously. "Geez, I wonder which one of them came up with THAT one."

"And you would be right, Frankenweenie," Gabe said proudly. "I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

"OK; there's a time limit of one hour to build your snowmen," Ethan told the assembled groups. "Remember, the construction has to be done the human way. However, to save time, your Angels can pop in and out with whatever props you need. Ready? Go."

Dean was glad to hear that last part. He'd been wondering how they were gonna do everything they needed to do, so fast. Angela was cute, but she could only do so much. And he and Barry and Jody were humans. "Looks like it's up to you, Captain Karen," he said, "We'll start building, and me and Jody'll let you know what we need."

Nanette's team had no shortage of Angels, and once Peter had sold them on what type of snowman he wanted to build, Kevin offered to pop around and get the required items. Becky, Henri and Nanette started to shape the snowman, and Peter helped as much as he could. Becky was looking maternally at the little boy, and then surreptitiously over at Sam. This could be a bit of a practice run for her, as far as having a little boy went. So far, she'd been enjoying herself immensely. This was exactly what Becky had pictured it would be like.

It had been a little trickier for Chuck's team to decide on a concept for their creation, but finally Eric had come up with one they could all work with: a strong female.

Gail's team had come up with a female character, too. The only trouble was, she was wondering where she was going to come up with the props she had in mind. But then, Gail came up with an idea. She walked over to Chuck. "If I can borrow George for a minute, I'll let you have Gabriel until we come back," she bartered with their friend.

Chuck shrugged. Sure, why not? So Gail took Karen and Ethan's son by the hand, popping him out. Gabriel came over to Chuck's team. "So, what are you building here?" he asked curiously. Linda explained it to him, and he nodded. "Oh. Okie-dokie." He glanced over at Liz for a moment to see if she was watching, but she wasn't. So he wiggled his fingers, and suddenly, their snow creation was much more buxom than she'd started out to be. Eric grinned.

Liz and Cas were conferring. They'd come up with a fairly simple concept, and Liz thought that most of the props could probably just come from the house. But she'd had an idea that she felt could really sell the concept. The only problem was, it would take twice as much work. Emma moaned. Great. Now, not only were they one person down, but they had to do twice as much? Liz had stared at her balefully. If Emma didn't feel like participating, that was fine, Liz said to the young Angel. Maybe Liz would just tell Kevin he should get a new assistant, then; one who wasn't so tired of working. Emma had apologized immediately, saying she would be happy to work with her team. Then she had bent down to help Carolyn form the snow sculptures as Cas had smiled at Liz, admiring the way she'd handled the situation.

Bobby hadn't been physically involved in the snowman-building competition before, but he was finding it to be exhilarating now. His vessel still had its limitations, of course, but now that he wasn't human any more, his back had ceased to be a misery, and he didn't wheeze every time he did a little physical activity. Still, he had four strong men on his team, so he let them do the lion's share of the work. Hey, he was God, wasn't he? Then shouldn't there be a perk or two associated with the position? So he worked with his teammates for a few minutes, and then told them that he was going to get some props for their creation. Then, he promptly disappeared.

Dean's team had finished fairly quickly. Their snowman was simple; it was the props and decorations that were going to sell it, he had convinced his team. So, while they were waiting for Karen to get back, Barry walked around the back yard, serenading everyone with Christmas carols. He started off with "Joy to the world, and all that junk," which he swore was going to be a staple for all future Christmases. Then he sang harmony with Peter on Away In A Manger. Since George had taken off with Gail, Barry coaxed Hester and Eric into a chorus of Hark The Herald Angels.

Then, Barry looked at Gabriel. "Since Gail isn't here, what do you think your team's song should be?" he asked the Archangel. "Jingle Bell Rock?"

Gabriel looked at him coolly. Then he cleared his throat and sang, "He is born, the Holy Child/Sing we all of the Saviour mild/Through long ages of the past/ Now the time has come at last/Jesus, Lord of all the world/Coming as a child among us/Jesus, Lord of all the world/Grant to us Thy Heavenly peace."

Everyone was staring at him, open-mouthed. Out of all the things they might have expected from him, that haunting, lyrical song would have been the last. "What?" Gabriel said. "I have my moments too, you know."

Barry approached Cas's team. Liz and Cas were still gaping at Gabriel, so Barry nudged his sister-in-law. "Well? You wanna?"

She shrugged, smiling. The two of them started to sing "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year", and when it got to the verse about parties for hosting and marshmallows for toasting, Tommy's sister pirouetted and did a little dance as Barry sang, "and Carolyn out in the snow". Then he poked Frank. "Get it? Get it? 'Carolyn', instead of 'caroling'!" Barry exclaimed. "Isn't that funny?"

Frank rolled his eyes as Tommy put his arms around his husband and kissed him, "Well, I thought it was cute," Tommy said, and Barry dimpled.

The Angels started popping back, and then everyone got back to decorating their snowmen. Or, "snowpeople" might be more accurate, because a couple of them were women.

Gail and George had been the last ones to come back. They had gone up to George's room in Heaven to borrow some baseball props for her snowperson. Gail was a fan of the game, but she didn't have anything around the house that would suffice. But she'd figured that George would have a glove, a bat, and a baseball. He did, of course. But, once there, they had gotten into a bit of a discussion about how weird it was that Angela and Peter and Ilene were smaller and younger than George now, but they would all be older than him in the future. Soon he would be the youngest kid instead of the oldest, and that would be weird, George had said. Not only that, but he told her he knew that Santa Claus was a myth, although he hadn't said anything about it, for the other kids' sakes.

Gail had been flabbergasted. While she admitted that what he'd said about not getting any older in the future was entirely true, Gail had gently corrected what George had said about Santa Claus. She didn't believe that Santa was a myth, at all. She'd sat down with the boy on his bed for a minute.

"When we get back there, look around you," she'd said softly. "You know that we've all been subjected to some pretty harsh realities. I mean, look how a lot of us became Angels, in the first place. But then, look at Sam and Dean, or me and my brother Frank. Look at you and your mom. You were without your dad all those years, Frank lost his parents, and Sam and Dean had lousy childhoods. But look at all of us now, so happy, and having so much fun together. Santa Claus is all of us, and we're all Santa to each other. Did you see how excited Angela and Peter were when they saw that Santa had come to our house and brought them presents? Personally? And didn't you feel a little excited yourself, when you saw that he'd brought YOU something, too?"

George smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."

"There you go," Gail said happily. "When we get back, I want you to look at all the love you'll see around you. That's no myth, George. That's the truth."

The boy thought about that for a moment. Then he'd hugged Gail, and she'd smiled, hugging him back. "OK, let's get back, so we can outfit our ballplayer," she said to the boy. "Have we got everything?"

They looked around the room. "A cap!" George exclaimed. "I can't believe we almost forgot!" He grabbed one from the shelf, putting it on his head. Then he took Gail's hand, and then they were back at the house.

A short while later, Ethan and Paul called time, and the teams all halted what they'd been doing, stepping back from their creations.

The judges went to Dean's team first. "Who's this scary-looking individual?" Paul asked the Elder Winchester, although he was pretty sure he knew.

"Meet Demon Dumb-Ass," Dean said proudly. The snowman had big, black sewing buttons for eyes, blacked-out teeth, and a backwards hat. Karen had popped over to Jody's kitchen and gotten some condiments, decorating the Demon snowman with them, while Dean had shown Barry how to paint a Devil's Trap in ketchup in the snow around their creation. As a crowning touch, they'd placed a container of salt and a pack of wooden matches in the snow. Dean looked down at Angela. "What do we do with this guy?" he asked the little girl. "Salt and burn!" she said happily. "There's my girl," Dean said proudly, crouching down to give Angela a high-five.

Everyone was open-mouthed. Finally, Frank said, "I can't make up my mind. Is that the most inappropriate thing I've ever seen, or the most awesome thing ever?" He approached Jody. "Were you on board with this?"

She smiled slowly, shrugging a little. "Actually, yeah. I thought it was pretty funny."

Frank was taken aback for a moment, but then he shrugged, too. "Well, then, that's good enough for me."

"Well, we judges are going to have to deliberate about it," Ethan said, glancing uneasily at Paul.

"Hey, when you were running up the steps of your Art Museum, did you ever actually go in?" Karen said pertly. "It's art, and sometimes, art is a little unsettling. That's what makes it good art, wouldn't you agree?"

"What are you looking at ME for?" Henri said, startled.

"You're French, right? Aren't Europeans supposed to have a good eye for, and open minds about, art?" Karen said to him.

"OK, first of all, I'm Canadian," Henri sputtered. "And, secondly...help me out here, Linda. You're the painter. Is that good art?"

Linda smiled grimly. "I'm with Angela; I say we salt and burn him."

"Then that would be performance art," Milo pointed out with a straight face, and they laughed.

"Moving on," Ethan said in his best cop voice, trying to get things back on the rails. They all went to inspect Nanette's team's snowman. "This is Pirate Pete," she told everyone, looking down at Peter. "Guess whose idea this was."

"This is pretty good," Paul remarked. The snowman had a red bandana around its head. Paul peered closer at its face. "Is that...?"

"Eyeliner," Nanette said dryly.

"What can I say? My son is a big Captain Jack Sparrow fan," Carolyn told everyone, her lips twitching.

"Hey, there's no reason he can't both terrorize the Seven Seas, and look fabulous, at the same time," Tommy said with a grin.

"And who's this...healthy-looking woman?" Ethan said diplomatically, moving on to Chuck's team's creation.

"Lara Croft, North Pole edition," Chuck replied. "We wanted to go with a snow-woman, who could be a strong female role model."

Hester and Linda had their lips pressed tightly together, but Eric was smirking. Paul could see why. When Gail and George had popped up to Heaven to retrieve the baseball props and Gabriel had made his little contribution to Chuck's team, Ms. Croft's chest had gotten incrementally bigger and bigger. Now, the snow-woman was beyond buxom. George was looking up at it, with a puzzled expression on his face. Chuck had to avert his head to keep from laughing out loud.

Ethan was wondering what to say about this whole thing. On the one hand, he wanted to impart to his son that the concept of a strong female was a good thing. But, on the other hand, he didn't want George thinking that the "improvements" Gabriel had made to the sculpture were the more desirable option.

"Why don't we move on, and I'll show you what a real female role model is supposed to look like?" Gail said, glaring at Gabriel. He gave her a toothy grin. "Meet..." Gail started to say, and then she stopped. She had been so preoccupied with the building and outfitting of their creation that she'd forgotten they had to give her a name.

"Jacqueline Robinson," Milo said, and Gail smiled at him happily. "Perfect," she told him. "Absolutely perfect."

"Way to pander to the judges," Emma muttered, but Cas looked sharply at her, and she closed her mouth with a snap.

Either Ethan hadn't heard, or he was pointedly ignoring what he was pretending not to have heard. "Great use of props," he said approvingly, giving his son a nod.

They moved on to Cas's team's area. "What's this? Two of them?" Paul said with a grin. "Or did somebody slip me a mickey?"

"No, there are two," Liz said cheerfully. "We sculpted a Santa Cas, but you can't have a Cas without a Gail, so we had to make two."

Gail smiled warmly at her friend. "Awwww, that's so sweet!" she exclaimed. Cas slipped his arm around his wife's waist, and the two of them kissed. "It's completely appropriate that he's Santa Cas, because he's brought me everything I've ever wanted," Gail said softly.

"Aww, geez. Too much sugar. I'm gonna get a cavity," Frank grumbled, and Gail stuck her tongue out at him.

"What's this, now?" Ethan said, moving on to the last snow sculpture.

"Roy Rogers," Bobby said proudly. They'd gone all out, as far as costuming went. The snowman had a bolo tie on, a big cowboy hat, a gold star badge and even a holster, with toy guns. It also had a second snow sculpture beside it. Paul peered. "What's that supposed to be?"

"It's supposed to be his horse, Trigger," Sam said with a grin.

"THAT'S a horse?" Paul said incredulously. "It looks more like a chihuahua!"

"We ran out of time," Rob said, shrugging.

"Nice 'horse', Sammy" Dean teased his brother. He nudged Frank. "Geez, if you guys think that horse is normal-sized, then..."

"Watch it, Winchester," Frank growled.

"OK, everybody. Judge Nick Nolte here and I are going to go and deliberate," Paul said.

"Yeah, Judge Eddie Murphy and I have to confer," Ethan repeated, grinning.

As the two judges retreated to the porch to discuss their choice, Dean gestured to his team's creation. "I think we're gonna win."

"There is an impressive amount of authenticity to it," Cas said, nodding.

Jody bent down and scooped Angela up in her arms. "You don't think it's too scary?" she asked her daughter.

"No!" Angela exclaimed. "He's dumb! My family kills monsters like him!"

Barry shook his head slowly, his eyes widening a little. He'd gone along with the group on the design, but he wasn't sure their snowman was exactly appropriate for little kids. But the rest of them seemed perfectly fine with it, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned to Henri and said, "I like your pirate. Especially his 'guy-liner'. Where did you get the makeup?"

"My purse," Becky replied, smiling. "I always keep the essentials handy."

"Truthfully, I like your snowman better than ours," Karen said to Kevin. "Ours is a little too creepy for my liking."

Kevin nodded. "I know just what you mean. I've had way too much first-hand experience with the King of the Dumb-Asses."

"Kevin! Mind your language!" Nanette admonished him, and Chuck's lips twitched. Since she and Milo looked so young, it was easy to forget that they were of a generation that thought the word "ass" was a swear word.

"I like the baseball lady," Peter said to George. "Is she a pitcher, or a batter?"

George thought for a moment. "She's in the National League, so she's both," he remarked.

"We might have won, had it not been for what Gabriel did to our sculpture," Hester said stiffly.

"My fiance is one of the judges, though," Linda pointed out.

"Are you saying he might show favouritism?" Gail inquired.

"No, I think she's saying he's a guy," Eric wisecracked.

"I think our sculpture is a little more dignified," Laurel chipped in. "I like the fact that you named her Jacqueline Robinson," she added, smiling at Milo.

Rob smacked himself on the forehead. "I just got that!" he exclaimed, and Frank shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, my son, the Rhodes scholar."

Liz picked Ilene up and cuddled her. "Look at you, trying to make your own little snow sculpture," she said to the little girl. "You'll be ready to join us in a year or two, won't you?"

"I think our sculpture is the cutest," Emma said to Carolyn, and Frank rolled his eyes again. "That's because neither of you has had to look at the real-life version for years and years now," he groused. He pointed to his sister and Cas, who were kissing and canoodling in the middle of the snowy backyard now.

"Actually, I'm surprised it took them this long," Tommy said, grinning.

"Yeah, me too," Bobby sighed. He looked at his team's creation. "Ya know, I think we coulda won, if we'd had the time to sculpt an actual horse."

"Maybe we should've tried to pass it off as his faithful dog, instead," Sam joked.

"OK, everyone, we've reached our decision," Ethan announced. He and Paul came down from the porch, and they all gathered around.

"There are six teams, and three awards," Paul said. "My esteemed co-judge and I have awarded Third Place to his wife's team, for their very realistic, if slightly disturbing, Demon Dumb-Ass."

"Captain Karen, come up here and get your prize," Ethan said. When his wife did, Ethan kissed and hugged her, then kissed her again.

"Hey! What about the rest of us?" Dean called out.

"Well, I'm not kissing YOU," Paul said, grinning, "but if that's one of the perks of being a judge..." He scooped Angela off her feet, dangling her upside down for a minute. Then he blew a raspberry on her stomach, and she squealed with laughter.

Paul let Angela back down onto the snow as Ethan said, "We're just goofing around. There are presents in the house for each member of our winning teams. And now, for the bad news: even though we liked the idea of Roy Rogers and Trigger, because Trigger didn't make it to adulthood - or horse-hood, I guess - we had to eliminate that one from consideration."

"Likewise, we had to eliminate Cas's team, because technically, there are two sculptures, not one," Paul stated. "No offense to either of my friends and Saqqaran travelling companions," he added hastily.

"And we're sorry, Chuck, but we've decided to disqualify Lara Croft, too," Ethan said, putting his arm around his son's shoulders.

"Why, Dad?" the boy asked.

"For the same reason," Ethan replied, his lips twitching. "Too much...well, just, too much."

Gabriel was smirking. He had simply intended his little joke to be a joke, but if it had the added benefit of getting a rival team disqualified, so much the better.

"Second Place goes to Nana Nanette's team," Paul announced, "even though, with all due respect to my man Peter, I think he should have been called 'Captain Guy-Liner'. You know: 'Have you ever been to sea, Billy?""

"First off, don't ever call me that again," Nanette said, stepping forward, "and secondly, what is that you're doing?" Rob smiled, explaining the play on words to her. She nodded. Of course. When she had been a human, such things as microwaves and frozen entrees hadn't existed.

"That means we won!" Gabriel crowed triumphantly.

"We couldn't let Jacquie Robinson go unrewarded, for several reasons," Ethan said, smiling. "Captain Gail, come forward with your team and get your trophies."

Gail sashayed forward. "Thank you; thank you very much!" she exclaimed, holding her arms up in victory. She accepted her trophy, then bowed to the assembled group. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. And my thanks to the Academy."

Gabriel accepted his trophy with a proud grin. He held it for a moment, but then, Gail yoinked it out of his hands. "However..." she said, "there's been a last-minute Executive decision, by virtue of my being the hostess. As the happy beneficiary of all his wonderful props, our team owes George a vote of thanks. He deserves this more than I do. And Gabriel is very selflessly giving up his trophy, too, as his way of apologizing for sabotaging Chuck's team." She handed Gabe's trophy to Eric. "There. Now you and Rob each have one," she said to her nephew.

"And I'll share my trophy with my fiance," Laurel said, smiling. She put her arm around Chuck's waist.

Milo was left with a dilemma. He wanted to be as magnanimous as they were being, but both Hester and Linda were without trophies. How could he possibly choose between the two?

Linda made it easy for him. "As a judge's fiancee, I can't afford the appearance of any impropriety," she said with humour. Milo gave her a wink and walked over to Hester, extending the trophy to her. "Will you please accept this as a token of my esteem, dear lady?" he said to Chuck's sister. She smiled at his kind gesture, taking the trophy from him.

There was one trophy left over, and Ethan scooped Ilene up from the snow, where she had struggled to return after Liz had picked her up. The little girl had been watching everyone make snowmen for about an hour now, and she had been trying her best to do the same. Many of the group had expressed their wonder at the fact that she'd been able to withstand the chilly temperature for so long, and Barry and Tommy had joked that she was Canadian, after all. But the baby had been extremely happy this whole time, and she was bundled up to the chin, so her dads hadn't thought it was a problem. Ethan showed her the trophy. "You're a member of the winning team, cutie-pie," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Here you go." Ilene reached for the trophy. Ethan brought it closer to her, and she pulled it to her mouth, sucking on it.

"Now THERE'S somebody who's got an appreciation for the important things in life," Tommy said, coming forward to claim his daughter. "Her first award. We'll have to start building a trophy case, hon," he said, smiling at Barry.

"And that concludes another fun-filled snowman-building competition," Gail announced happily. Cas put his arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "Everybody, line up at the back door. We'll set up a drying station," Gail continued. "Cas'll be first, and then he'll get the hot chocolate and snacks going."

"Then I'll go second, and I'll help you, Cas," Barry offered, but Gail shook her head. "Nope," she said. "I'll need you for turkey duty, later, when we get a little closer to dinnertime. Which means, you should definitely rest up, now."

"I'll help," Bobby said. "In fact..." He waved his hands, and suddenly, everyone was dry. "Let's all just go inside," God said briskly. "I'm sure the kids would like to play with their toys some more, and I have a recipe for a polar bear drink, if anyone's interested."

They all started to troop into the house, but Gail frowned. "What's the matter, my love?" Cas asked her. "I wanted to dry you off," she told him. "I love drying you off."

"Are you guys coming, or...ohhh," Dean said, looking at the couple.

"What?" Linda said impatiently. She looked behind Dean, at Cas and Gail. "Ohhhh."

"What?" Milo said, looking back behind him.

"Nothing. Keep it moving, Henry's Grandpa. Nothing to see here," Dean wisecracked. He looked back at Cas and Gail. "I'll tell Bobby to go ahead and start. We'll see you guys in, what? Half an hour, or so?"

Gail smiled up at her husband. "Or so," she said. Dean went in the house, and Gail continued to smile at Cas. "Now, how am I supposed to dry you off when you're not wet?" she asked him.

"Whoops," Cas said lightly, and he fell on his back, pulling her on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the lips. "Do you remember that time we made those snow angels?" he asked her. "Do you want to do that again? I'll be sure to get nice and wet, then."

"Sounds good to me," Gail said, smiling. "There's only one problem: we have a houseful of family members in there, and as much as I would absolutely love for you to have to undress and change into all new clothes...eventually...we have a whole houseful of family members in there."

Cas nodded, giving her a squeeze. "I'll tell you what, then. Let's have one more really good kiss now, and I'll make sure to arrange for a very heavy snowfall here, on December 27th."

Gail laughed. "It's a date."

Dinner was ready, and everyone sat down at the biggest dining room table that any of them had ever seen. Cas was at the head of the table, of course, and Gail sat to his right, as always. They had agreed that there wouldn't be a kids' table. There were very few children in their group, and the entire concept had seemed too segregational to Gail, anyway.

Nanette was sitting beside Gail, and she had laughed merrily when their hostess had said that. Then Gail had realized how that must have sounded, and she had started to apologize, but Nanette had waved her off.

Rob came out from the kitchen, bearing a big bowl of stuffing. He placed it on the table in front of Bobby, and sat down in his seat between Nanette and Bobby.

Chuck was next out of the kitchen, carrying a huge bowl of mashed potatoes. He sat beside Bobby, and then Dean came out with a bowl of carrots, joking that it was the only thing Gail would let him carry, because she'd known he wasn't gonna dip his fingers into it to get an early taste. He went back into the kitchen to get a big bowl of corn, and then took his seat beside Chuck. Gail had drawn the place cards at random, so people would intermingle. Nobody minded. Now that they had all been here together for the better part of two days, friendships and bonds had formed that might not ordinarily have.

Linda was sitting beside Dean, and Karen was to her right. Peter came out of the kitchen, balancing a plate of rolls, and Karen helped him put it on the table as Peter took his seat beside her.

Eric came next, carrying another bowl of stuffing. Then he went back for one of the boats full of gravy. He sat beside Peter. Emma was on Eric's other side, and Angela sat beside the bespectacled Angel. Kevin brought another bowl of potatoes out from the kitchen, and then he went back for another boat of gravy. Jody was sitting to Kevin's right, and Becky was beside her. Milo was on the other side of Becky. He'd already brought another turkey out from the kitchen, placing it in front of his place setting. Cas would have the honour of making the first cut as the host, of course, but Milo had offered to help, to move it along. Bobby had given all the Angels appetites, and everything looked and smelled so good. They were going to need more than one bird, Milo had said. As a former patriarch of his own family, he was more than familiar with the process, Milo had advised with a smile.

Tommy came out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine in each hand, and the corkscrew in his pocket. He started opening the bottles, then went back to the kitchen for more.

Sam came out with another plate of rolls in one hand and a dish of butter in the other. He sat on Tommy's right, then turned to his own right, where Ilene was sitting perched in a high chair. Sam had told Barry and Tommy it would be his pleasure to feed the baby pureed turkey and vegetables, and let her two dads enjoy their dinner. Originally, George had been drawn to sit on Sam's right, but Gail made a last-minute decision to put Frank there, instead. She reasoned that he'd had more experience feeding babies. In case Sam ran into any problems, Gail thought her brother might be able to help him. Frank came out of the kitchen bearing a platter with yet another turkey on it. George came out with a big tray of pickles and cheese and sat beside Frank, and then Barry came out with a green bean and cauliflower casserole he had made and placed it on the table in front of George, who eyed it dubiously. Then Henri sat to Barry's right after having brought out yet another gravy boat and bowl of stuffing. Linda was sitting to his right, and Laurel was beside her.

"Everything looks great," Dean enthused, looking around the table. "We ready to roll?"

"No," Gail said, looking towards the kitchen. "Where are Liz and Gabriel?"

"Be right there!" Gabe called out from the kitchen.

Liz opened the kitchen door, wide. "I apologize, in advance," she said to everyone.

Plates and bowls of food started to float out towards the dining room table. More of everything they had already, plus cranberries, and more bottles of wine. Gabriel followed, beaming proudly. "Now, THAT'S how you set up a feast," he said, as everything settled down on the table.

"Oh, so that's where the expression 'a movable feast' comes from," Rob quipped, and Gabe high-fived him on the way to his seat.

"Liz," Gail said to her friend out of the corner of her mouth, motioning to her own hair. Liz's hand went to her head and then she smiled, smoothing her hair down where it had been sticking up. Gabriel had waited until everyone was out of the kitchen, and then he had performed his own little maneuver on her while everybody had been getting settled at the table. Liz smiled sheepishly.

As she and Gabriel moved to the table, suddenly, Gail gasped. "Oh, no! I forgot our candlesticks!" she exclaimed, looking at Cas.

"What? These?" Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers, and their golden candlesticks appeared in the centre of the table. "I saw them at Frank's place when I was there, and he told me what they were," he said. "Why don't you do the honours, Kitten?"

Gail smiled warmly at him. Gabriel pulled the chair beside Laurel out for Liz to sit in and he sat to Cas's left, giving his Brother a wink. "There," Gabe said. "Let the festivities commence."

Gail pointed her finger at the candles, lighting them with her golden beams. Then she looked up at Cas. "Whenever you're ready, sweetie."

Cas had been standing at the head of the table this whole time, and he looked fondly at everyone now. "With apologies to certain family members, and you know who you are - " he said, glancing at Dean - "this year, I would like to say a very brief prayer. Could everyone join hands, please?"

They all did. Sam took one of Ilene's chubby little hands in his, and so did Frank. The two men gave each other a smile.

Becky sat holding hands with Jody and Milo, but she was looking over at Sam, and she could feel her heart beating faster. This was it. In a minute, after the prayer was said, the turkeys were being carved and the wine was being poured, Becky was going to stand up and tell everyone her news. She was looking at Ilene's little hand in Sam's, and tears came to Becky's eyes. He was going to be so happy with her announcement.

Cas said: "This Christmas, may we multiply each other's joys, and divide each other's sorrows. May kindness be imprinted on all our words and deeds. May laughter and friends and family always be our hope, and may forgiveness and graciousness be freely given and humbly accepted. And, may our family be a reflection of God's love, and the love that we have for each other, as long as we shall live, and forever afterwards. In Your name."

Gail sniffled. "Amen," she said, then Gabriel said it, and the others joined in. "That was beautiful, sweetie," Gail said, squeezing her husband's hand.

"Thank you, my darling," he said, and he kissed her hand, then reluctantly let go of it to pick up the carving tools. "And now, I'll make the first ceremonial cut, and then, I will encourage everyone to please begin."

Cas plunged the knife into the turkey that was before him, and Becky shot to her feet. All she could see was blood coming out of it, flowing all over the table. She looked at Sam, and there was Quinn, sitting beside him where Ilene was supposed to be. Quinn's hair was all matted with blood and she had no neck, but she swiveled her head to stare at Becky accusingly. "My blood is on your hands," Quinn told Becky. "What makes you think that you belong here, with these people? Praying with them? What the hell is the matter with you, Becky? How stupid ARE you? What the hell do you think is growing in that belly of yours? The baby Jesus?"

"I have to go to the washroom," Becky said aloud. "Please excuse me." She rushed out of the dining room and down the hallway.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then they started to pass bowls and plates back and forth, as the men carved the turkeys. Sam started to feed Ilene from the jars of baby food. She had pureed turkey, and strained carrots. "If she eats all that, we might give her a spoonful or two of the chocolate mousse Barry made for dessert, as well," Tommy said to Sam. "Then we'll put her down for the night, and we can take our time eating."

"No problem; I've got this," Sam said pleasantly. And he did, too. Ilene was eating very well for him.

"Here, Sam," Barry said to their friend, reaching out. "The least I can do is make you up a plate, while you're doing that."

"When I used to feed Angela, I went by the 'one for you, one for me' system," Frank told Sam, slicing off some white meat and putting it on Henri's plate with a dash of cranberries.

"Why does that not surprise me, Franks 'n' beans?" Gabriel said, smirking, eyeing Frank's stomach. He poured Liz a glass of wine, then looked at Gail inquiringly. But Cas had already poured a glass of wine for his wife, and now he was putting a drumstick on her plate. She smiled up at him, and then she glanced at Gabriel and Liz, her lips twitching. She didn't know if Gabriel had always been this attentive to a woman, or if he was just emulating Cas. Either way, it was endearing.

Meanwhile, Becky was kneeling in front of the toilet, retching. The baby was moving in her stomach, and even though she knew it was impossible, she swore she could feel him kicking, too. Becky clenched her stomach. "Ow!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter with you?"

As soon as her hands went to her stomach, the baby settled down right away. "Look," Becky muttered. "We'll go back out there and have a big plate of food and a couple of glasses of wine, and then, we'll tell everybody. Okay?"

The baby moved once, and then it was still again. Becky took that as a yes. She got up and flushed the toilet. Then she washed her face and her hands, making sure there was no actual blood on them, composed herself, and then left the washroom.

Abigail had been passing by a church, and some sort of weird impulse made her go in. She wasn't a churchgoer, but it was Christmas night, and she just wanted to be somewhere where there were people.

She sat in the very back pew as the parishioners celebrated Christmas Mass. Abigail didn't belong here, she knew. The trouble was, she didn't belong anywhere. Certainly not among decent people, anyway. What had happened to her? There had been a time when she had been a good person. Hadn't there? But then she had met Vincent, and that had been the end of that.

But was that really the truth? Really? If so, what was stopping her from doing the right thing NOW? She hadn't seen Vincent in months, even though her fridge was continually stocked with her youth shake. He probably wanted to avoid her, now that she had been in contact with their daughter. Abigail had heard Castiel's Christmas blessing in her head, and Gail, complimenting his prayer. They had a whole houseful of people there, and it looked on the surface to be a warm and wonderful family Christmas. But Abigail also saw blood and death, and she knew that at least one of their number would be gone by next Christmas. In fact, she was sure that there would be more than just the one to fall. And somewhere in the Caribbean, Vincent was laughing.

It wasn't too late to do the right thing, Abigail told herself. She could help them, if they would let her. But, why should they? Why should they trust her? She had never been any kind of mother to Gail. She had resented the girl the instant she'd come out of her womb, and she had never shown her any kind of maternal affection. So why was Abigail considering helping her daughter now? Was it because much of the Christian world was celebrating the birth of a Son whose fate had been no less tragic, in many ways? Look at the dubious origins from whence Gail had come, and all the obstacles that had been thrown in her path. But, just look at her now. Bathed in the warm glow of her husband's and her family's love. Then shouldn't that be good enough for her, the little Princess?, the spiteful part of Abigail piped up now. Gail had it all, didn't she? And where was Abigail? Sitting here, all alone, and unloved.

But Gail DIDN'T have it all, because it was all just an illusion. It was all going to be taken away from her soon. Then who would Vincent come for, after that? Well, it didn't take a genius to figure THAT out, did it? Abigail had better decide to do the right thing soon, or Vincent was going to destroy them all while she was busy being passive-aggressive.

She exited the church quickly, as if staying there one minute longer was going to cause her to burst into flames. And, who knew? It just might. It was Christmas, after all. Abigail had better get home. She had some more thinking to do.

Dinner was winding down now. Dean and Frank were still gamely working on their heaping second-helping plates, while Bobby and Rob were making a half-joking side bet as to which of them was going to cave and put his fork down first.

Becky had been biding her time, but she knew it would have to be in the next few minutes, because soon, people would start getting up from the table. She herself had had a heaping plateful, and three glasses of wine. She knew you weren't really supposed to drink when you were pregnant, but it was Christmas, and she'd needed the liquid courage. Besides, Vincent said it was fine, and he hadn't steered her wrong yet. And it seemed to have calmed the baby, because she couldn't feel it moving any more.

Jody sat back, patting her stomach contentedly. She was glad she'd been able to put away a good meal, for a change. All she did at home was pick at her food. This had been a terrific couple of days for her, she thought, as she looked around the table at her family and friends. But it seemed like she was going to have to be satisfied with that, because Jody could feel one of her headaches brewing now. She was going to have to excuse herself to go lie down in a bit, and even though she knew that everyone would understand, it was a real shame. It had all gone by so quickly. Most of them had told Cas and Gail that they would stay over until tomorrow, but the Angels would probably be going home. Little Ilene was already down for the count, and Angela was starting to get that glazed look, too. If Barry and Tommy and Carolyn were going to stay here tonight, maybe Jody would bring Angela to bed with her, promising her daughter that she and her Cousin Peter could play some more with those ridiculous robot things in the morning. Right now, Angela was trying to feed Poochie a bite of turkey from her plate, with negligible results. Eric was telling his sister that elephants probably didn't eat turkey, and Angela appeared to consider that very thoughtfully. Then, she asked her Aunt Gail if she and Uncle Cas had any peanut butter in the kitchen, and Milo laughed and laughed, saying he'd never seen anything so damn cute.

Emma and Sam were in the middle of a discussion about historical trivia, and Henri and Linda were watching the comments fly back and forth, as if they were watching a highly contested tennis game. Sam had started off innocently enough by stating that the ancient Romans used to eat in reclined positions around the table, because it was considered bad manners to sit upright. He'd joked that if they ate this much at every meal, he could certainly understand why. Of course, that had been like throwing the proverbial gauntlet down to Emma, who had come back with the information that Julius Caesar had once given a banquet at which 150,000 guests were seated at 22,000 tables, and that the banquet had lasted for two days. Tommy had quipped that Frank and Dean must have attended that banquet too, because it looked like neither of them had any intention of surrendering any time soon.

Becky stood up. "I have an announcement," she said to everyone. She could see that some of the people around the table were starting to look a little fidgety. If she didn't tell them now, she would lose her nerve. But as everyone looked at her now, she began to stammer. "I mean, I don't know if it's an announcement, exactly. More like, some news. But it's kind of a big deal, I think, and I hope everybody's going to be as happy about it as I am..."

"What is it, dear?" Hester prompted her. By now, she knew that her brother had once dated this girl, who had also dated Kevin. But Becky was a human now, a young fashion model who was a little bit outside of the circle, and was leading an independent life. Good for her, Hester thought, not relying on a man for her livelihood.

Becky was tongue-tied. She'd made the mistake of looking at Cas. He was regarding her calmly, looking as if he already knew. Suddenly, Dean dropped his fork with a clatter. "Man, I am so done," he moaned, rubbing his stomach. "Boo-yah!" Frank exclaimed. "I win!" Sam laughed. Becky looked at him. The man she loved. The father of her baby. Wait a minute. Did he have a black scorch mark on his face? No, that was just a trick of the light. It was Vincent who had that, and it was Vincent who Becky thought of now, to give her the strength to say what it was that she had come here to say.

Becky put both hands on her stomach. "I'm pregnant," she said loudly, perhaps louder than she had intended. Suddenly, the candles snuffed out, and each and every light bulb in the house exploded, including the ones on the Christmas tree, which then collapsed. The house was plunged into total darkness.

Patricia and Raguel sat in the living room of her little apartment. They had just finished watching the news on television, and Patricia was pouring herself a cup of tea. She had offered the Archangel some, but he had demurred. He seldom partook, he advised her. Although when he'd first come to Earth and started slumming it with Rowena, Raguel confessed, he had begun to drink alcohol. But he had seen the error of his ways, realizing that the redheaded witch was trying to lead him down the path of Sin. He had thankfully extricated himself from Rowena's clutches before that had happened, of course, but still...Earthly ways were beneath Raguel.

She'd nodded at that, but Patricia did not have the luxury of choice. Since she did not have her Grace any more, she had no option but to take sustenance, she told him, or she would perish.

Their heads were still reeling from what they had just seen on the news. It was Christmas Day, the most sacred day of the year, and what had they seen on television? Nearly naked people, writhing and moaning to so-called "music". Reality shows about people stabbing each other in the back in order to win money. Drinking, gambling, fornicating. And on the news, there were terrorist bombings, and sex scandals. There were some extremely disturbing things going on in Europe, mostly in France. People deliberately driving large trucks into crowds of other people. Cases of widespread food poisoning in the north of France, that the police said had been traced back to an ethnic foods company, run by illegal immigrants. A very angry Presidential candidate had appeared on the broadcast saying that, if elected, he would "cleanse" France from those types of people. What did that mean? the reporters had wanted to know. Then he had apologized, saying that he hadn't meant it that way. He'd only been upset about all the deaths of his countrymen and women, he'd said, especially so close to Christmas.

Raguel had liked the imagery, though. As much as he had tried, he told Patricia now, he could not find anything about the human race that their Father would have found so lovable.

"I need those Books," he fumed.

"Books?" Patricia said blankly. She was preoccupied, still thinking about that item on the news that stated that another country's leader had "allegedly" sexually assaulted multiple women. Multiple women!? How was that even possible? Yet there he stood, attending Christmas services with his wife and children by his side. It was unfathomable. Where was the justice? Whatever had happened to the simple concepts of Right and Wrong?

Raguel let out a frustrated breath. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying? If I had the Book of the Dead and the Book of Life, I could right every wrong that the human race has caused. I could take over Heaven, and vanquish Sin, and Evil."

"Well, you're half right," Patricia said dryly. "The Book of the Dead no longer exists. There are some Utterances from it on Earth that are supposed to be of some use, but that's about it."

Raguel was astounded. "And you know this...how?" he asked her.

She gave him a baleful look. "However briefly, I was God, remember? I saw the file. There were only two surviving parts to the Book of the Dead. The Pyramid Texts were destroyed with the collapse of King Unas's tomb, and the Coffin Texts were those Utterances of which I spoke."

Oh. Raguel was very surprised to hear that. But it had really been the Book of Life that he had wanted anyway, so he asked her about that, now.

"I never got around to reading that file," Patricia responded, and then the tone of bitterness crept into her voice. "Castiel made sure that I was not around for long enough." Patricia had very conveniently omitted the fact that she had held Castiel prisoner in Heaven's jail that year, a fact that Raguel knew, but for his own reasons, he did not let on. That had also been during the Christmas season, coincidentally enough. She had attended a huge Christmas service then too, just like the President she had seen on the news, projecting an innocent face to the public, while the reality was just the opposite. Patricia's revisionist account of her tale of woe had Castiel storming into the High Office, and spearheading a coup d'etat. She failed to see any sort of hypocrisy.

Raguel's lips pressed tightly together. Curse his bad luck! He'd had the good fortune to meet the only woman who'd ever held Heaven's High Office, but she was turning out to be of no use to him whatsoever. But at least he knew that the Book of the Dead was no longer a consideration. It did amuse him to think of that man, or whatever he was, Vincent, running around looking for it, though. Hopefully, he was still doing so, leaving Raguel to concentrate on finding the Book of Life, which was a much more valuable tome, anyway. That Book would change it all.

"I hope you find your Book, but I'm afraid I can be of no assistance to you, not in my present condition," Patricia said to Raguel now. "I have no powers, because I have no Grace. I will have to attempt to get a job of some sort soon, to pay for my food and lodgings. I would be happy to help you restore Heaven to its former glory, but I am simply a former Angel, Raguel."

The Archangel looked at Patricia with compassion. How terrible this must be for her. She had once been God, and now here she was, living amongst the animals, forced to eke out an existence as one of them. It wasn't right.

"I will be in touch, dear lady," Raguel said to her, rising from his chair. "Merry Christmas." Then he vanished from her apartment.

Hester screamed when the lights went out. All of the popping sounds had startled her, and so had the sudden darkness.

But this was a house filled with Angels, and some of them were very powerful beings. Bobby clapped his hands together once, sharply, and the lights came back on. The lightbulbs in the house had all been instantly repaired. Gabriel was already in the living room, fixing up the Christmas tree with a wave of his hand. And Castiel pointed his finger at the golden candlesticks, re-igniting the candles with a frown. They didn't really need the illumination any more, but he felt as if there was some sort of a principle involved.

What had THAT been all about? This house was heavily warded, and those golden candlesticks had repelled Lucifer, himself. Cas was uneasy now. He looked around the table at everyone's stricken expressions, and then he looked at Becky, who was still standing there with her hands on her stomach. "What did you say?" he asked her quietly.

Becky had been startled by what had happened too, but the baby moved now, giving her the confidence she needed to say: "You heard me. I'm pregnant, with Sam's baby." She looked at Sam. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Sam was speechless, rooted to his chair in shock. But Dean wasn't. He pushed back from the table, pointing his finger at Becky. "That's bull."

"No, it isn't, Dean," Becky insisted. "I'm with child."

"'With child'?" Gabriel said sarcastically. He had popped back in from the living room. "I don't think anybody's said that since the original Christmas. Right, Brother?" he added, smirking at Cas.

"This isn't the time for jokes, Gabriel," Bobby said through clenched teeth.

"No? I think it's the perfect time," Gabe retorted. "I doubt this one's a virgin, though. Look at the look on Gigantor's face. I wonder if Joseph looked like that."

"Gabriel, either shut up, or get out," Bobby said angrily.

Gail felt sick. What had happened to their magical family Christmas? Now, everybody was mad at everybody. She stood from her chair, staring across the table at Becky. "What the hell were you thinking?" she exclaimed. "Coming into my house and sitting at our table, like a member of our family, and then ruining our digestion by telling such a big fat lie?"

"I'm not lying!" Becky shouted. "I AM! You can test me, if you want!"

"Oh, we'll be doing that," Dean assured her. "Don't you worry about that, 'Parent Trap'."

Liz giggled once, and then she clapped her hands over her mouth. Gabe looked at her approvingly, but Liz felt embarrassed now. She got up quickly and said, "Come on, Karen. Let's take the kids to one of the bedrooms, and read them some stories."

"I think we're going to go up to Heaven, and let you talk things over," Nanette said, nodding to her husband, Henri, Linda, Paul, and Kevin.

"Maybe I should stay, and help clean up," Chuck said, sitting back in his chair. Laurel made an impatient noise. "We're taking Hester home, and then we're going back to Heaven," she said, grabbing him with one hand and Hester with the other.

Carolyn likewise grabbed Barry and Tommy. "We'll be in the living room, not listening to a word," she said, yanking the men out of the living room.

"Come on, Rob. Let's go play with those devices we're not supposed to have," Eric said, elbowing his brother. Emma and Ethan both popped out without a word.

That left Dean, Jody, Becky, Gail, Gabriel, Cas, Frank, Bobby, and Sam. The immediate family. Well, except for the empty-headed interloper who had just ruined Christmas, Gail thought spitefully.

Dean was in Gail's corner; even though she hadn't spoken, he could tell by the look on her face that was exactly what she was thinking. And she wasn't wrong.

"OK, everybody, just calm down," Jody said, in as calm a voice as she could muster. "Why did you wait until now to say something, uh...Becky?" For an instant there, she had almost forgotten the girl's name. But now was not the time to lose her grip. She wanted to help Sam, who was looking like the world's tallest deer, caught in a set of headlights.

"Because I was scared," Becky answered honestly.

"Ohhhh, you were scared," Gail mocked her. "Then why didn't you just wait until after Christmas? Maybe then, you could have wrecked New Years' instead," she added viciously.

Gabriel was enjoying the show. "Way to bring those claws out, Kitten," he said, smirking.

"Be quiet, Gabriel," Cas said sternly.

"Am I the only one who has no idea what's going on, here?" Frank said impatiently. "Since when are Becky and Sam...?"

"They're not," Bobby said tersely.

"Well, we actually did. Once," Sam admitted.

"Yeah. ONCE," Dean emphasized.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Buddy, but once is enough," Frank said dryly.

"Uhhh...didn't you bring along a little soldier, or two?" Gabriel said to Sam slyly. "I could take you to the drugstore, if Dean's too embarrassed."

"Do I hafta smite you just to get you to shut up?" Bobby asked him irascibly. "'Cause I have no problem doing that."

"Please, everybody, stop fighting!" Becky shouted. "This isn't how I pictured this at all! I thought everybody would be happy! I'm having Sam's son!"

"How do you know it's a boy? Have you had an ultrasound? How long ago did you and Sam - " Jody started to say, but then, she stopped herself. Suddenly, she was back at the station house, and Becky was a suspect in the interrogation room. Jody had better dial it back a bit. She was getting carried away, here.

"The night that you told them - " Becky started to say, but then she closed her mouth with a snap. Gail's eyes widened. Becky had better not even think about finishing that sentence, or Gail was going to throw Becky out of this house on her lying, scheming little ass, irony be damned. Because as much as Gail hated to admit it, and she really hated to admit it, an ever-increasing part of her believed that Becky was telling the truth. There was no way she would have had the nerve to stand up here in front of everyone and lie about being pregnant, especially on Christmas Day. No way.

"Can everyone please excuse me and Becky for a minute?" Sam spoke up. Finally. "We need to talk, alone."

Jody grabbed Frank by the hand, and Cas took Gail's. Dean leaned back in his chair with his arms folded in front of his chest, but Cas shook his head. He pulled Gail by the hand and strode over to Dean, clutching Dean's arm and winking him out of the dining room.

Gabriel stared after them, still smirking. Bobby cleared his throat, and the Archangel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Bobby said in a deceptively friendly voice. "I'm good with either."

Gabe paused for a moment. "I think I hear Liz calling me," he said, cocking his head. "Good luck, Big Guy," he added, looking at Sam. Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Bobby stood there for another minute, looking at Sam and Becky. The two of them were like his own children. He had no idea how to feel right now. Actually, that wasn't true. He felt a lot of things. He was surprised, but maybe not as much as he should have been. He was sad, mad, and more than a little disappointed. And was it even possible that a part of him was just a little bit happy?

"Call me if you need me," he said to them. Then he popped out of the dining room.

Sam walked around the table to stand beside Becky. "Let's have a seat," he said softly, pulling her chair out for her. They sat down, and Becky began to cry silent tears.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to ruin everyone's Christmas," Becky wailed. "I just got so caught up in the whole loving, family Christmas thing..."

"Are you really pregnant?" Sam asked her quietly.

Becky nodded vigorously. "I really am, Sam. I would never lie to you about something like that. I promise."

He was silent for a moment. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," Becky lied.

"Are you sure it's..." Sam started to say, but he stopped himself. He'd better not say what he'd been about to say. Besides, he knew the truth, didn't he? Becky had been a virgin when they'd slept together. He knew that for a fact. "...a boy?" he finished, somewhat lamely.

"It's OK, Sam. I know what you were going to say," Becky said in a subdued tone. "You were going to ask me if I was sure it was yours. It's all right. I understand. I'm willing to take any test you want. It's yours, Sam. And I don't know for sure that it's a boy," she lied again. I just feel like he is."

They were both quiet again. Sam's head was spinning. Becky was having his baby? Becky was having his baby.

Cas and Gail popped back into the dining room, with Dean between them. "I'm sorry; we couldn't keep him out any longer," Cas apologized. But what he'd really meant, of course, is that he couldn't keep them both out any longer. If he'd had to, he could have forcibly restrained Dean, but Gail was another matter.

"That's okay; I understand," Becky said, sighing. "Look, everybody, I honestly didn't mean to ruin anybody's Christmas. I just thought that..." She started to tear up again. "I honestly don't know what I thought. Maybe I just thought that Sam deserved to know that he's going to be a father. Maybe I actually thought that you guys might even be a little bit happy about it. Even if you hate me, you love Sam, and this baby is half his, so..."

"We don't hate you, Becky," Dean said wearily. "We're just...surprised by the news, that's all."

She looked at him, and she was surprised, too. Obviously, Cas and maybe Bobby had had a talk with him, telling him to go easy on her. Maybe Frank, too. Becky had almost forgotten a basic fact: men were suckers when it came to pregnant women. Vincent had told Becky that, before she had come here. He'd told her that, if worse came to worst, she should play that card, over and over again. The women might not fall for it, but the men definitely would.

Gail wasn't. She was looking at Becky with narrowed eyes now. Yeah, she hadn't meant to ruin anyone's Christmas. Right. That was why she had made it a point to stand up at the dinner table and...Gail took a deep breath. She was going to have to let that go. At least Becky had waited until they'd finished eating. Cas had tried to talk both her and Dean down, taking them out to the back porch to cool off when they'd left here. But Gail wasn't falling for the waterworks. She should have figured as much. Sam had been drunk, Becky had seen an opportunity, and...Gabriel had been behaving like an ass, but he hadn't been wrong. Obviously, neither Sam nor Becky had swung by the drugstore on their way to bed.

"Could you take me home, please, Cas?" Becky asked their host timidly. "I should go, and let all of you enjoy the rest of your Christmas."

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" Gail muttered, scowling.

"I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll talk some more," Sam said to Becky.

She smiled tremulously at him. "OK, Sam. Sounds good. Thank you for a lovely Christmas," she said to Gail, trying not to smile at the look on Cas's wife's face. Becky was trying not to be spiteful now, but it served Gail right. She thought that she was the Queen of Everything, didn't she? But the bigger Becky's tummy grew, the better they were all going to treat her. And if Gail didn't like it, that was just too bad, wasn't it? There wouldn't be a damn thing she could do about it. Sam was going to fall in love with his little son, and if Gail was going to continue to give them a hard time, well, she could just ask Quinn how that had worked out for her. There were plenty of Angel blades in the bunker, weren't there?

Becky smiled as she felt the baby move in her stomach. Her son approved.


	6. The Promise Of Spring

Chapter 6 - The Promise Of Spring

It was a new year now, and there were a lot of changes in the wind, both big and small.

Sam and Becky had had that talk, and then they'd had several more, and suddenly, every time Dean turned around, there was Becky, at the bunker. Eating, sleeping, lounging around. Then he and Sammy would go out of town on a case, and Sam would bring her back to her house before they left. But then as soon as they came back, Sam would go over to Becky's place and pick her up, and the cycle would begin again. It was just over a month into the new year, but they had already fallen into a routine. Dean was starting to wonder where all this was going. Dean was afraid he knew exactly where this was going.

And it was weird, too, because ever since Christmas Day, Becky's stomach had started to puff out like one of Cas and Gail's overstuffed turkeys. By the family's calculations, Becky was only about four months pregnant, yet she looked like she was much further along. Gail theorized that maybe it was because Becky had been a model. They were used to seeing her rail-thin, so the fact that her stomach was a little round now was probably not that unusual.

These were the types of discussions that took place when Becky wasn't around, of course. And at first, Sam had been a part of those conversations. Dean, Gail and Cas had sat Sam down after Christmas with several bottles of liquor on the table, swallowed their distaste, and asked him to recount his night with Becky in as much detail as possible. They needed to know if there was any way that this could all be a big mistake.

"Yeah, it's one big mistake, all right," Dean said sarcastically, but Cas sighed. "We simply mean that...Sam has advised that he was very inebriated that night. We're simply trying to establish whether - "

" - they actually did the deed," Dean finished for his friend. "I said the same thing to him, in Vegas. Maybe they didn't."

"Would you guys quit talking about this whole thing as if I wasn't here?" Sam said, annoyed. "Believe me, I'd love to say that nothing happened that night. But I can't."

"Are you sure, Sam?" Gail persisted. "You told us that you can't really remember much of anything. How do you know she didn't set you up?"

"Yeah," Dean said, latching eagerly onto the idea. "You said she helped you into the bed, and that's pretty much all you remember."

"Yeah, and when I woke up the next morning, Becky was sleeping, naked, beside me," Sam pointed out.

"So? So what? That doesn't prove anything," Gail stated.

"She was a virgin, and now she's pregnant," Sam responded. His lips twisted into something that was trying to pass for a smile. "So, unless we're suddenly back to the very first Christmas..."

"You only have her word for it that she was a virgin," Gail insisted. "She could have slept with dozens of guys, for all you know."

"No, Gail, she didn't," Sam said quietly.

"How the hell do you know that, Sam?" Dean said, rolling his eyes. How could a smart guy like Sam be so stupid? "She could have lied to you. Women lie all the time."

Gail threw him a look, but because Dean was on her side for this particular argument, she didn't admonish him.

"There was blood in the bed, OK, Dean?" Sam said uncomfortably, as his brother's face screwed up in disgust. Oh, ewwww. "I didn't want to have to say that. You made me say that," Sam added.

Gail was stopped in her tracks, too. Oh. Admittedly, she knew very little about the subject, but she knew what Sam was getting at.

Cas was regarding Sam calmly, putting aside any personal feelings he had about the subject for the moment. Gail and Dean were finding it impossible to do so. So someone had to be the voice of reason, here. "Fine," he said now, "but, what about afterwards? Gail is quite right, Sam. Even if you were her first, how can you be sure that you were her only? Perhaps she is telling you that you are the father simply because that is the preferable scenario for her."

"There you go," Dean said to his brother. "Listen to Cas. He's right. He doesn't know anything about anything when it comes to sex, but in this case, he's right."

"Hey! What's THAT supposed to mean?" Gail said irritably.

Dean let out a frustrated breath. "I just meant that he doesn't know anything about scheming skanks, trying to trap men."

"Oh." Gail nodded. That was certainly true. Thank God.

"OK, Dean, it's pretty obvious how you feel about this whole thing," Sam said, "but the fact is, if I'm the father, I have to step up."

"Yeah. IF," Dean said pointedly. "But I'm gonna need to see proof, first."

"Then there's the solution," Cas said reasonably. "Didn't she say she would be willing to undergo tests?"

The four of them had looked at each other. Actually, Becky HAD said that, several times. "Why don't you give her a call, Sam?" Cas prompted his friend. "If you can find out for sure, then at least you can move forward, whatever the tests may show."

Sam nodded, picking up his phone. That was a logical, reasonable thing to suggest. Emotions had been running high between all of them since Christmas, but now, they had a consensus. Finally.

There was only one problem. Becky refused to even consider it.

Vincent had anticipated that the subject would come up. Actually, he was amazed that Sam hadn't made the request right after the big news bulletin, on Christmas. He'd been waiting for Becky at her house that night, to hear all about it. Actually, the whole thing had nearly been blown sky-high, right there and then. Vincent hadn't really expected Becky to come home Christmas night, and he sure as hell hadn't expected her to be on the arm of Castiel when she did. Fortunately, because Cas was a gentleman, Vincent had been able to disappear from sight when the Angel had bent down to pick up Becky's overnight bag and the shopping bag that held her presents, offering to take them upstairs for her.

Ever since that day, Vincent had been spending lots of time at Becky's place, trying to do a little damage control. Although it had greatly entertained him to hear how the family had been fighting among themselves like a pack of wolves following the news, Vincent didn't appreciate Becky having gone off script and offering to get tested up the wazoo, so to speak, in order to prove that it was Sam's baby. He supposed he should have seen that coming. Of course Dean would want it not to be Sam's kid. He would never want to share his brother with anyone that way. Ever. The way Vincent saw it, Dean would rather see Sam dead than with anyone else. And they called VINCENT twisted and demented. It was likewise with his daughter and Castiel, but their suspicion would be based a little less on emotion and a little more on shrewdness. Vincent had no problem with that. He would expect nothing less.

No, the problem wasn't any of that. It was Becky and Vincent who were the problem. Becky was one thousand percent convinced the baby was Sam's, because she was the only one of them who had the certainty of her convictions. She HAD been a virgin that night, and she HADN'T slept with anyone else. Well, not voluntarily, anyway. When Vincent had put that baby in her, he'd been wearing Sam's face, even though she'd been so out of it that he probably hadn't even needed to. And, because Vincent was an individual who believed in covering his ass and achieving what he'd set out to do, he was the one who'd put that blood in the bed. That had been the kicker, as far as Sam was concerned. The proof that Becky had been a virgin. But it hadn't been Becky's blood, just some random ritual blood Vincent had had on him at the time. The fact of the matter was, virgins didn't always bleed. As a guy who'd had his share of them, Vincent knew that to be a fact. But he also knew that the God Squad would be fooled. They were all way too good and pure to be able to think like Vincent. If they had any idea of the level of evil scheming that was going on behind their backs...

But there was no way that Vincent was going to allow that testing. His Son wasn't going to be subjected to their poking and prodding. And, truthfully, it was impossible to tell what they might find. This was an ancient and very evil spell. The kid wouldn't exactly have horns and a pitchfork in there, but the results of their tests might come out more than a little bit abnormal, and then where would they be? Becky was only four months along. The baby still needed her as a host. The growth retardant potion had been working to a certain extent, which meant that The Son was feeding off of Becky to get what it needed. Just like any other normal pregnancy, Vincent thought sardonically. But he couldn't afford to let the so-called professionals pry open that can of worms. If they started testing Becky, they might very well find inordinate amounts of human blood in her, among other things. Blood that was not her own.

Also, Becky had been dining on other socially unacceptable things. Their son was starting to crave fresher meat, as Vincent had predicted before Christmas. Becky had begun to snatch up live insects around her house and eat them, and a few minutes before Sam had called asking her about the tests, she had set up some mousetraps around the house. Becky hadn't said anything about them and Vincent hadn't asked, because it was so unnecessary. But he would have to have a chat with his Little Mother before she went to the bunker the next time, and make sure she understood how important it was to keep her little secrets...well, secret. Sam's family was just looking for an excuse to keep her and Sam apart.

And that was why she should refuse to be subjected to their tests, Vincent told Becky. There was absolutely nothing in it for her, just a lot of poking and prodding, and pain. They would take blood from her for their DNA tests, precious blood that the baby needed to be healthy. They would stick long needles into her stomach. Had Becky ever SEEN those things? Why on earth should she have to go through that? To make Dean and Gail happy? Becky knew that Sam was the father, Vincent said to her, and deep down, so did Sam. Dean and Gail would just have to get over themselves. They were just jealous, because Sam and Becky and the baby were going to be a family. Dean didn't want Sam to be happy, because then Dean himself would be alone and miserable. And, Gail was just a bitch. Hadn't Becky always known that, really? Gail had the hots for Sam, but she was too holy to cheat on Cas. Still, she didn't want anybody else to have Sam, either. Gail thought that she was the Queen of the World, Vincent said, winding Becky up. And Cas let Gail do anything she wanted, didn't he? Becky had protested weakly at that, saying that when Cas had brought her home on Christmas night, he had been very nice to her. That had amused Vincent all the more. If this whole situation drove a wedge between the Sainted couple, that would just be a delightful bonus, wouldn't it?

So when Sam called, requesting that Becky take the tests, she refused, saying she didn't want to be poked at right now. She'd been having a lot of morning sickness, and she was just trying to get enough rest and keep some food down, and make sure the baby got enough nutrients right now. Maybe they could talk about it further along in the pregnancy, when she felt stronger.

Sam had been disappointed, of course, but he had let it go. The last time he had seen Becky, she had looked tired and pale. Whether he was the father or not, there was no way Sam was going to be responsible for anything happening to an innocent little baby.

So he had told his family to drop it. And that was when the infighting began.

A week later, Sam had told the others that he was going to call Becky, and if she felt up to it, he was going to go over for a visit. Maybe see if he could bring her anything.

"I can take you, if you want," Cas offered. "If she needs anything, I will be glad to get whatever she needs. I'm sure Gail would, too."

Gail regarded her husband, expressionless. "You two are big, strong men. I'm sure you can handle it without my help. Besides, how are Dean and I going to talk behind your backs if I come?"

Cas frowned. He knew that his wife wasn't happy about the situation. None of them were, not really. But whether they liked it or not, it was happening. Becky was going to have a baby. Following her refusal to have any tests done, Gail had been livid. She had called Sam gullible, saying that, for all they knew, Becky was not only lying about him being the father, but maybe she wasn't even pregnant at all. How did they know she didn't have a throw pillow stuffed in her pants? Dean had jumped on that idea like a drowning man would reach for a life preserver. Gail was right, he'd said enthusiastically. That sounded like the kind of stupid-ass, soap opera crap that Becky would pull. So Cas had called Becky and asked her politely if the four of them could pop by and see her for a moment. They had some concerns, he'd said diplomatically.

Vincent had hidden himself, telling Becky to tell them to come over. Things were still fresh then, and Becky needed to make nice. So the four of them had come, and Becky had sat there, wide-eyed and innocent, waiting for someone to say something.

Gail had let out a frustrated breath. Typical. Fine, then. She would be the bad guy. "Becky, we need you to do us a favour," she told the girl. "For our peace of mind, I wonder if you and I can go into the next room for a minute. I'd like you to show me your stomach."

Becky had looked at them, open-mouthed. "You think I'm making it up," she'd said. She looked at Sam. "Do YOU think I'm making it up, Sam?"

He'd looked uncomfortable. That had pretty much been the only expression they'd seen on his face since Christmas. "We just need to rule it out," he'd told her. "I hope you understand."

Dean had rolled his eyes. He didn't give a damn whether she understood or not. He would only believe it if Gail told them that that was all Becky, and nothing else.

"Fine," Becky had said, tight-lipped. "Here. You can all see." She'd stood abruptly and pulled her top up with one hand and her elastic-waist pants down with the other, showing them as much of her stomach as was decently possible. "Go ahead. Look," Becky had said to them all. "Better still, go ahead and touch it."

Dean and Sam looked quickly, and then they looked away. Cas peered closer, as did Gail. "Touch it," Becky said sharply, and Cas glanced at his wife. She sighed, but she reached out and touched Becky's stomach, confirming that it was only Becky that she was touching.

But a weird thing happened, then. As soon as Gail put her hand on Becky's abdomen, she felt something. Almost like...a shifting motion. She'd looked at Becky, startled. "Did I just feel something MOVE in there?"

Vincent cursed silently from his vantage point. Come on, Becky, he rooted.

Becky laughed shortly. "No, of course not," she told Gail. "It's way too early for that. It was probably just my tummy grumbling. I'm hungry all the time, now."

So there had gone that theory, and now Gail and Dean were back to the old standby, the one where some random guy was the father, and Sam was being played. The trouble was that as far as Sam and Cas were concerned, the subject of testing was closed for now. They were in the Kindness corner of the ring, while Gail and Dean were in the opposite corner, still trying to dream up ways to bust Becky, with or without her cooperation.

Cas looked sadly at Gail before taking Sam to Becky's house, and her fingers curled into her palms under the table. She really, really disliked that look. At least if he got angry with her, they could have a fight, and get it out of their system. But this sad, disappointed look was much worse. Cas made her feel like a monster. WAS she being a monster?

But then, as soon as Cas popped Sam out of the bunker, Dean leaned forward across the table, looking at Gail.

"So, how do we bust the bitch?" he said.

Gail laughed, and her feelings of guilt dissipated. Cas and Sam were soft-hearted suckers. It was her and Dean who were right. They just had to figure out how to prove it.

"Can we get some kind of a court order, and MAKE her get the tests?" Gail mused aloud.

"How the hell should I know?" Dean grumbled. He was trying to find something about that on the laptop, but it was slow going. The irony was not lost on either of them. Usually it was Sam who would be doing the research. Dean peered at the screen. "There's a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo on here, but basically, it looks like that's only if she's asking him for child support, or something," he said grumpily.

Gail let out a frustrated breath. She'd been doing a lot of that, lately. Great. Becky had been very clever about that. She hadn't asked Sam for a damn thing, because she hadn't had to. He and Cas had been a two-man charity, ever since it had been confirmed that Becky wasn't faking.

"You know what Frank said?" Gail said now, smirking a little. "He said we should get her on one of those daytime talk shows, where they do the paternity tests. 'Who's the Baby Daddy?' Frank thought it was hilarious."

Dean scowled. "Yeah, well, he would. You know, she's almost dumb enough to fall for something like that."

The two of them looked at each other morosely. The only thing was, with every passing day, Becky seemed to be getting just a little bit smarter. Or a little bit more calculating, at any rate. Gail had muttered that if Becky kept on getting pregnant, a few kids down the road, she and Sam might actually be able to have a real conversation. Dean had nearly spit out his beer when she'd said that.

But Gail was looking at Dean now, and she sighed. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a real ass," she confessed to her friend. "I know we both hate this, but whether we like it or not, the bottom line is, that's an innocent little baby she's having. Whoever's it is. So, maybe we should lighten up on her a bit."

Dean's eyebrow raised. "You think?"

Gail nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do, Dean." Then she smiled slowly. "But, once she has that kid, it's on."

They smiled at each other, and then Dean shut the laptop down. "OK, Mrs. Buzzkill," he said thoughtfully. "OK."

It was a couple of days before Valentine's Day now, and the men in their family who had significant others had been swapping suggestions.

Cas and Gail were at Frank's house, participating in a Skype phone call with Tommy. He had called to find out how Jody was doing, and she'd talked to their Canadian friend for a couple of minutes. But then, Rob had ducked his head into the living room and reminded his mom that she had that Cops For Cancer meeting in half an hour, and so they had to leave, now. Jody no longer drove. Sometimes, she couldn't remember where she was supposed to be going, and sometimes, her headaches got so bad that she temporarily went blind in one eye. Typical of Jody, she was being as stoic as she could about it. It helped that she had three men in the house who were more than willing to take her anywhere she wanted to go, and an old friend who just happened to hold the title of God, who'd told Jody that she was to call him, day or night, if she needed anything. So she had excused herself, saying to give her love to Barry and Carolyn, and little Ilene.

"I'm really glad you're there, Cas," Tommy had said. "I need some advice on what to get Barry for Valentine's Day. If I get him anything at all, that is."

"OK, first of all, whaddaya mean, 'Cas'?" Frank had piped up. "What am I, chopped liver? And secondly, what do you mean, 'if' you get him anything? Are you guys fighting, or something?"

"Well, no, but we were talking about it a week ago, and he said he didn't want anything," Tommy replied, and Cas looked puzzled. "Then, why are you asking?" the Angel inquired.

Frank was highly amused. "Stand down there, Big Guy," he said to Cas. "I got this. Look, Tommy, I'm no expert on marriage to another guy, but I'm here to tell you that if Barry was a woman, and if you wanted to keep on living, you'd be getting her something. So, just to be on the safe side, get him something. Right, kiddo?" Frank poked his sister, and she swatted at his hand, but she was smiling.

"You know, I hate like hell to admit it, but in this case, I have to agree with my brother," Gail said to Tommy.

The four of them bandied gift ideas around for a few more minutes, and then Tommy said, "I'd better go. I'm supposed to be making dinner. Talk to you soon."

Then he signed off, and Frank grinned at Cas and Gail. "Amateur," he commented, shaking his head. "So, what have you two got planned? Or, on second thought, do I wanna know?"

Cas took his wife's hand, smiling at her. Ever since Gail had convinced Dean that they should ease up on Becky, things had gone back to normal between the couple. "We'll be having a very romantic evening, Frank," Cas said.

"Trust me, that's all you WANT to know," Gail told her brother, and he nodded vigorously. Phew. That had been a close one.

Angela ran into the living room, dragging Poochie by his trunk. "Look, Poochie! Look who's here!" she exclaimed, positioning him so that he could look, too.

Gail's lips twitched furiously. "Hi, Poochie," she said to the elephant. "How are you?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Don't encourage her. She takes that thing everywhere. And I do mean, everywhere. She took him in the front yard with her, teaching him how to build a snowman. She said they were practicing for next Christmas."

"Well, how else is he going to learn?" Gail quipped, laughing.

"Yeah, Dad. I told you that, already," Angela said impatiently.

Frank made a face at his sister. "Remind me again why I let you in my house?"

"Because you loooooove me," Gail said, making kissy faces at him.

Angela looked at Frank. "Eric told me to tell you he's going out. Me and Poochie have to have our bath, and then you have to tell us a story." She looked at the Angels. "'Bye!" the young girl said, running back out of the living room.

"Well, goodbye to you, too," Gail said dryly, and Frank sighed. "I'd better go," he told the couple. "If I don't watch her, she'll be giving Poochie a soapy bath, and then she'll freak out if I try to put him in the dryer. But, on the bright side, she doesn't give me an argument about bedtime any more. She can't wait to get into bed at night. We still have Story Time once in a while, but now, she makes up stories to tell the stupid elephant. Seriously, I gotta tell you guys, that stuffed animal is the best thing that's ever happened to her. And to me, too. Especially now. So...thanks."

"We're glad, Frank," Cas said softly. He took Gail by the hand. "We'll see you, soon." They popped out of the house as Frank hurried after his daughter.

It was two months before the election, and Benoit's staff was working long and hard, on the final push to the finish line. Some polls had him in the lead, and others had his left-wing opponent ahead.

Levesque had waited until Christmastime to enact his plan, and it had been a stroke of brilliance. His first move had been a two-pronged attack. He'd asked Jillian to touch a random stranger on the Metro, and that stranger had stolen a truck and driven it into a large crowd of Christmas shoppers. The police had drawn their guns on the man, and he had calmly exited the truck and screamed curses at the officers, telling them to shoot him, or he would gladly do it again. So one overeager policeman had, and the man had died. But that sort of thing didn't concern Benoit in the slightest, because even if the man had lived, there was no way that something like that could ever be traced back to him.

It was likewise with the cases of food poisoning, although that had been a little trickier to pull off. He'd had one of his teleporters, Hugh, transport Lorrie to the plant that manufactured Christmas tortieres in the north of France. The company was proudly immigrant-owned, employing immigrants almost exclusively. But their product was tainted, and there had been a number of deaths and serious illnesses as a result of lax hygiene at the factory. At least, that was the conclusion which the investigative board had arrived at, anyway.

Benoit had gone on the news at Christmas to assure the good people of France that his proposed administration was going to crack down on terrorism and illegal immigration, so that his fellow countrymen - and women - could feel safe again. Come the spring, he had vowed that there was going to be a change in the way that the government was run. Once he was President, Benoit would do whatever he needed to do to ensure that his nation was safe.

All it would take was a few more well-chosen and well-planned disasters, and come April, France would be his.

"Are you sure the place is haunted?" Dean asked Nicole, bemused. "Or have you just been hanging around us for too long?"

"Very funny," she said, making a face. The two of them were talking via Skype. Nicole had been in Ottawa ever since Christmas. She'd gone there to make funeral arrangements for her grandfather, but much to her chagrin, she'd found out that the process wasn't nearly as quick or easy as she'd thought it was going to be. Funerals were expensive. She'd practically cleaned out her savings account paying for everything, and to her credit, she'd taken care of it all by herself. No whining, no complaints. He'd been the last surviving member of her family, and she'd felt like she had to do the right thing by him. But it was amazing how cold-blooded people could be. When she'd gone to the nursing home after flying in from Vancouver, the staff had told her that her grandfather's body was already in a drawer, at the morgue. They had a waiting list. So they had cleaned out his room, and put his possessions in a couple of boxes for her to take with her. Nicole had been a little taken aback by the speed and cold efficiency that was involved. But that was the way things were these days, it seemed. Everything was ruled by the Almighty Dollar, leaving little room for sentiment. So she had signed all the paperwork required to take official possession of her grandfather's body, and his meagre belongings. And the nursing home had made sure to include the waiver of liability form, of course. Nicole had asked them what that was for, and they'd told her that she had to sign it, to absolve them of any responsibility for her Grandpa's death. She had barked out a laugh at that. He'd been in his late 90s. She doubted very much that his death had been their fault. The cause of his death was simply too much...life. They'd given her a stony look when she'd said that. Maybe Nicole should have brought Gail with her, or Frank. Frank probably would have told her not to sign anything until they had ascertained that it hadn't been Colonel Mustard in the library, with the pipe wrench. Then Nicole had laughed until she'd cried, thrusting the signed forms at the puzzled staff.

Then she'd called the funeral home, and that was when the parade of people with their hands out had begun. There was a cost to transport her grandfather's body to the funeral home, get him fixed up, and arrange the service. Then she had to pick out his coffin. They had some lovely oak ones with brass handles, that cost thousands of dollars. Then she would want flowers, of course, and to purchase announcements in all three local newspapers, notifying people about his passing, and the details of the service. Then there was the grave. Did he have a pre-purchased plot? How the hell should she know? Nicole had asked the representative at the funeral home. The way he'd been holding on, she'd honestly begun to believe that she was going to be the one who went first. They'd looked at her strangely at the funeral home, too. Well, at first. But then, as the discussions became more businesslike, Nicole had started to realize something: none of these people gave a damn about her, or her loss. Oh, sure, they said all the right things, but all they cared about was making a few bucks. Actually, more than just a few. Six thousand dollars for a coffin that they were going to lay a dead body in and then bury deep into the ground, never to be seen again? Were they nuts? Oh, and the fun didn't end there. Graves cost almost as much as condominiums. And even if her grandfather already had one, she wanted to buy him a lovely marble tombstone, didn't she?

OK. Okay. Nicole took a deep breath. What about cremation as an option, then? The funeral director's lips had tightened a bit, but he had told her that it was her decision, of course. But very little would change, as far as costs went. She would still need to pay for the coffin, and the flowers, and the announcements, and the costs for the service. And, gold urns did not come cheaply. Unless she opted for silver or bronze, but those could tarnish, over time. Surely she didn't want her grandfather's remains to be in a tarnished vessel, did she?

That was it. Nicole snapped. What the hell was the matter with these people? How the hell did people DO it? She started to shake.

"How DARE you?!" she exclaimed. "You're greedy bastards, the whole lot of you!" Now she was thinking about Cas, and his tirade at Caesar's Palace. Dean had told her about that, and they'd both had a good laugh about it at the time. But now, she could totally see Cas's point. "You make a very nice living on the backs of peoples' grief, and you make them feel guilty for not wanting to pay your exorbitant prices. You prey on people when they're sad and confused. I guess I didn't love my grandfather, because I don't want to spend my entire life's savings on the oak coffin, or the solid gold urn, is that what you're telling me? Well, you can go screw yourself! Why don't you just take those six-thousand-dollar brass handles, and shove them right up your ass!"

Then she'd stormed out of the funeral home, leaving an open-mouthed funeral director behind. Once Nicole had gotten back to her grandfather's house, she had called Dean and told him what she'd done, and he'd said he'd never been prouder of her.

But she had ended up capitulating, of course, because what was the alternative? Nicole had made some very dark jokes to herself about hefty garbage bags and midnight burials in abandoned fields, but in the end, she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't do right by her Grandpa.

And she had borne her grief and responsibility alone, for the most part. Nicole wasn't exactly the martyr type, but the longer she'd stayed in Ottawa, the more introspection she had undergone. She was in communication with Dean, and he had offered several times to come. But she'd found herself telling him that it was going to be a small, private service, and then she had to start going through her Grandpa's house and seeing what was there. It wasn't as bad as Gail's Uncle Andy's house, she'd joked, but there was quite a bit to go through.

Besides, she knew that they were all dealing with some fairly heavy-duty stuff right now. Dean had told her the shocking news about Becky, and Nicole could hardly believe it. Nicole was with Dean and Gail on this one; she was convinced that the girl was trapping Sam. She felt for Dean's brother, and for the rest of them, too. But she especially felt for Dean. And, to add to her boyfriend's woes, it sounded as if Jody was starting to fade, too. Dean said that he and Sam had only been taking local cases so that they could stay fairly close to home. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

So Nicole had soldiered along, dealing with her own situation, right up until the weird things had started happening at her grandfather's house.

At first, she hadn't really thought anything of it, Nicole told Dean now. Ottawa was cold in February, and the creaks and groans she'd been hearing were just the sounds of the house settling. Nicole had grown up in Ottawa, a lifetime ago, in more ways than one. So she was slowly becoming reacquainted with real Canadian cold. Not the damp, rainy, chilly cold that Vancouver called winter, but the bone-chilling, black-ice, windchill-factor type of cold. The kind of cold where, when it starts to snow, the inhabitants rejoice, because that means the temperature is actually heating up.

"So that's how it all started," she was telling Dean now. "Just basically, things going bump in the night. But then, it escalated. The TV went on by itself. Scared the crap out of me. Then, some books floated off the bookshelf in the den. Then the cupboards in the kitchen opened, and the coffee mugs went sailing at the wall, past my head. And this morning, when I went downstairs, I found my Grandma's cedar chest standing on its end, in the corner of the dining room. And that thing's heavy, Dean. It takes two full-grown men just to lift it an inch off the ground."

"OK, the first thing you're gonna do is move out of that house," Dean said soberly, but Nicole was already shaking her head. "I can't, Dean. I told you, I spent the lion's share of my savings on my Grandpa's funeral. So unless I'm going to move in next to him in that crypt I'm paying rent on, I have no choice but to stay here until I can sort through his stuff and see if I can find his legal papers."

"Crypt? What do you mean?" Dean asked her, puzzled. "Didn't you have the funeral, a while back?"

Nicole let out a breath. "Yeah, but this is Ottawa, and it's winter. Apparently, they won't be able to bury him until the spring, because the ground here is frozen. The things you learn," she said dryly. "So, they have to keep him in a crypt until they can break ground on his plot. Can you imagine? Oh, but they assured me that, since it's so cold, he'll 'keep'. What a relief."

Dean could hear the tone of bitterness in his girlfriend's voice. His heart hurt for her. It also made him mad to think of how those funeral people took advantage. No wonder Nicole was broke. He had tentatively offered to give her some money once he'd realized her situation, but she'd shut him down, real fast. If she could just find her grandfather's Will and get it sorted out, she would probably be able to sell his house and recoup her costs. Maybe all of them. It depended on how much houses went for, there in the frozen wasteland of Canada. But now, she was telling him that there was a restless spirit at the place, too? Well, that sure complicated things, didn't it?

"Did you know about the frozen ground thing?" Nicole was asking Dean now. "'Cause I sure didn't."

He shook his head. "Nope. No idea. But then, let's face it: we treat dead bodies a little differently in our line of work. We don't bury 'em, we dig 'em up and burn them." There was a pause, and then he said, "Sorry."

"No. Don't be," Nicole said. She sighed. "So, anyway, that's why I called. Look, I know you've got some stuff going on there, but is there any way you guys can come and check it out for me? Or just you, if Sam's..."

"If he's what? Reading the encyclopedia to Becky's stomach?" Dean said irascibly. "That's gonna be next, I swear." He heaved a sigh. "I'll tell you what. If you don't mind Cas and Gail coming too, we can get them to pop us over there. The good part about having Angel friends is, you can get any place immediately. I'll talk to Cas. Becky's got his cell number, and so does Frank. But I don't see any reason why Sam can't come, too. Until we see what kind of manifestation we're dealing with, the more people we have, the better." Dean smiled, trying to cheer her up. "Hey, maybe it's just your Grandpa, saying hi. Maybe he's just trying to help you clean up the place a bit."

Nicole returned Dean's smile, appreciating his efforts. But somehow, she knew it wasn't her Grandpa. She was starting to get a really creepy vibe about the whole thing. Independence was one thing, but even the most militant of feminists would surely acknowledge that it was okay to call your Ghostbuster boyfriend for help if you thought you had a haunted house.

Dean said he would call her back once he'd talked to Sam and Cas, and then they'd disconnected the call.

"Hey, Sammy, how would you like to freeze your butt off?" Dean said cheerfully as he walked into the library area.

"Huh?" Sam said, puzzled.

Dean explained Nicole's situation to his brother, and Sam said, "Oh. Yeah. Of course we've gotta go and help her."

Dean was relieved. He'd been being sarcastic with Nicole, but a bigger part of him than he wanted to admit to had been afraid that Sam was going to pick staying in town with Becky over going to Ottawa with him. After Dean's little chat with Gail, or Gail's little chat with him, he guessed, Dean had extended the proverbial olive branch to his brother. But that was as far as Dean was prepared to go. His feelings about Becky and her pregnancy hadn't changed, not one bit. But he didn't want to keep on fighting with Sam over it, either. It was the same with Gail. Once she and Dean had made their pact, Gail had taken Cas out of the deep freeze, and Cas had wiped that look of disapproval off his face. The Angels were back to normal now, all lovey-dovey and junk. Which made life around the bunker a lot less unpleasant, if you could stand the nausea.

Like now, for instance. With no specific mission to embark on and their concern about the situations with Becky and Jody, Cas and Gail had been hanging around the bunker more often. A lot more often. Not that Dean really minded, he supposed, but sometimes their constant displays of affection got on his nerves. However, since Dean was preparing to ask them for a favour, he guessed that now wouldn't be the best time to tell Gail to get the hell off Cas's lap, and behave like a normal person for a change. But Cas was just as bad. Every time Gail would leave the room, he would watch her leave, then sit there looking like a lost puppy until she returned. It was enough to drive you crazy. Cas and Gail with nothing to do were two of the most irritating people Dean had ever hung around with. Or maybe it was just because he was so pissed off about the whole Becky Baby Mama Drama thing, and taking it out on the wrong people.

"Can you guys pop us over there?" Dean asked the Angels now.

"Certainly, Dean," Cas said, giving his wife a gentle squeeze. "We can help with the haunting, too, if you want."

Sam's lips twitched. Cas and Gail were very capable people in many different aspects, but when it came to ghosts and certain types of monsters, they were basically novices. They must really be bored.

Sam wasn't oblivious to what had been going on with his immediate family since Christmas. No; far from it. It was just that everything that was going on right now was so far beyond his control that Sam had just stopped trying to swim against the current. He was convinced that he was the father of Becky's baby. Intellectually, Sam knew that she could very well be setting him up, somehow. Of course he knew that. He wasn't stupid, and he wasn't naive. She'd had three months between the night they'd slept together and Christmas to come up with any number of schemes. But Sam couldn't overcome the pervading feeling that he was indeed the father, and he also couldn't seem to overcome the loving, paternal way he felt whenever he looked at Becky's growing belly and pictured the little baby in there, waiting to be born. Yes, Sam had felt trapped, at first. Resentful. Angry. Punished for all time by one night's indiscretion. How many times had Dean gone tomcatting around, when he'd been younger? How was it that he had never accidentally fathered a kid, or even been under scrutiny? Unless Lisa had been lying when she'd said that Ben wasn't Dean's son. There had been a lot of nervous jokes between the brothers at the time, but the bottom line was that women were usually very happy to acknowledge a guy's paternity, rather than deny it.

So, those had been Sam's initial feelings. Not too gallant maybe, but certainly human, especially considering his past history with Becky. And there was still the sadness and bewilderment about Quinn's murder. The colder that case got, the less likely it seemed that it would ever be solved. Sam felt terrible about that, just as he felt awful about their last conversation. Quinn had gone to her grave with the knowledge that Sam had betrayed her trust. That was a heavy burden to carry. In the magical thinking that emotional minds sometimes employ, maybe Sam's subconscious was telling him that if he treated Becky and the baby with loving kindness, that would balance the scales a bit, making up a little for the crappy way that he had treated Quinn.

But Dean didn't get any of that. All he saw when he looked at Becky was a scheming bitch, who was trying to trap his brother into fatherhood. And while Sam appreciated Dean's protective nature when it came to his little brother, the bottom line was that it didn't really matter. Regardless of how anyone felt about Becky, that baby was going to be loved and nurtured, Sam had vowed to himself. Yes, and protected, too.

Sam had been relieved when Dean and Gail had eased up. It had made things a lot simpler for him, and it was good to see that the tension between Cas and Gail appeared to be gone, as well. And, yeah, they sometimes went a bit overboard with the PDAs. Sam agreed with his brother about that. But they never did anything inappropriate in front of any of their friends or family. Just lots of kissing and cuddling. "Canoodling", as Gail called it. Sam didn't mind all that much, not really. It was sure better than the alternative. They all had enough external forces to fight, so they definitely didn't need to be fighting among themselves.

"Sure, Cas," Sam said now. "You can probably help us out."

Gail looked at him speculatively. Had that been condescension she'd heard in his voice? She had been trying to act as if nothing was wrong, but she was constantly on edge these days. With every passing day, she'd been feeling like there was a giant shoe suspended somewhere, just getting ready to drop on all of them. A clumsy metaphor, maybe, but that was how it felt. And things were happening, of course. Becky was getting bigger, and Jody was getting sicker. Paul and Linda and Chuck and Laurel were getting married in April, and before that, there was going to be what they were calling a "stag-ette" party on Earth that Linda had promised was going to be a little on the wild side. Gail had laughed at that, wondering what Linda and Laurel would consider wild. Especially since it was going to be at Hester's house. Tea without using saucers, maybe? The guys had a poker night planned, just as they'd done for Cas's bachelor party.

Yes, there were definite changes coming. But there was more to it than that, Gail was sure. What was Vincent doing? Laying around on a beach somewhere, working on his tan? Yeah, Gail highly doubted that. She could almost feel him, lurking in the shadows, grinning that ugly, scary grin of his. Why hadn't he made a move? What was he waiting for?

Cas felt it, too. That sense of foreboding. He'd been feeling it ever since Las Vegas, when they'd been gathering the Utterances. That had turned out to be much ado about very little, hadn't it? Still, he wondered. That didn't seem right to him. What were they missing, here?

He and Gail had been spending more time than usual at the bunker, it was true. Part of it was because they didn't have much else to do at the moment, and part of it was because Cas had wanted to stay available for Sam, in case Becky needed anything. Also unspoken was the fact that Jody's medical condition seemed to be deteriorating. But Cas had also wanted to do some more research about life, death, and the various realms that comprised the Afterlife. Even if the Book of the Dead was truly no more, there had to be some significance to the writings that they had gotten their hands on. There had to be. And, what of the Book of Life?

"I'll tell you what," Dean said. "Why don't we all pack a bag, and go for a few days? Nicole says there's a winter carnival going on there right now. It's supposedly as cold as a witches' - " he glanced at Gail " - nose there, but we just have to dress for it. Could be fun."

"Nose?" Sam said, but he was grinning now. He kind of liked that idea. The four of them always managed to have a lot of fun on their road trips, and things had been so weird between them all lately. This really couldn't have come at a better time, in a way.

"Come on, Mrs. Buzzkill," Dean said to Gail. "You're always saying you wanna go someplace really, really cold. Well, now's your chance."

She jumped off Cas's lap. Freakin' finally, Dean thought. "You don't have to invite me twice," Gail said eagerly. "You had me at the first 'really'." She looked down at Cas. "I've got a few sweaters, but how about you, sweetie? You'll probably need one or two."

"Maybe there's an ugly Christmas sweater sale on, at the department store," Dean wisecracked. Wouldn't THAT be funny? Truthfully, he doubted Gail would subject Cas to that, no matter how much he and Sam begged. But, hey, a guy could dream.

Gail ignored Dean. "We'd better get you a winter coat, anyway. Maybe a cashmere blazer," she said to Cas.

Cas rose from his chair, taking her hand. "We will be back in a couple of hours," he told the brothers. "Find out if Nicole has any recommendations for a nice hotel."

Dean nodded. That was a great idea. Then, Nicole could come stay with him in his hotel room for however long it took to get rid of her ghost. Then maybe they could discuss some other kind of arrangements. He wondered about her job, too. She had mentioned that the movie was still being shot. Presumably, she was on some kind of compassionate leave, or something. They could talk about all that, when he got there.

"I'll call Becky and tell her we'll be gone for a few days," Sam told the others. "I'll see if she needs anything before we leave. Do you want me to call Frank, and let him know?" he asked Gail.

She frowned, but she didn't feel like talking about The Elephant right now. She and Cas were going somewhere new and exciting, someplace cold for a change, and they had some clothes shopping to do. So Gail merely nodded. "Yeah, could you, Sam? That would be great." Then she and Cas popped out.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment. But he didn't feel like talking about elephants either, so he just said, "I'll call Nicole and let her know we're coming." Then he left the room as Sam pulled out his cell phone.

It had been fun from the very beginning, and it just got funnier and funnier as the day went on.

They had checked into Ottawa's oldest and most fancy hotel, the Chateau Laurier. When Dean had asked Nicole for the names of some nice hotels, she had mentioned that one, just as a joke. She had never stayed there herself, of course. She'd been just a kid when they had lived very briefly in Ottawa. Then, after her parents had died, she had tried on several Canadian cities for size before settling in the suburbs of Vancouver. Then, once she'd gotten steady employment on the Supernatural TV show, she had moved into her little apartment in Vancouver.

Anyway, once she'd made her little joke, they had Googled the place and decided that that was where they were going to stay. It was expensive, but what the hell. It was still cheaper than the hotel the Vancouver Supernatural convention had been in. And it was downtown, walking distance from the winter carnival. Gail had remarked that it looked sort of like a castle, and Sam had liked the fact that it overlooked the Rideau Canal, which was a body of water that froze so solidly in the winter that people ice skated up and down on it, making it one of the world's longest natural skating rinks. People actually ice skated to work there, in the winter. Amazing.

Cas was so excited about the prospect of learning how to ice skate that he was like a little kid at Christmas. And once Nicole realized that they seriously did intend to stay there, she assured Dean that the hotel was on the edge of a district called The Market, where there were tons of restaurants and bars.

The real fun began when they went to the Front Desk to check in. Nicole had made reservations for them online, but they still had to get their room keys, of course. Actually, it had been a minor miracle that they had been able to get three rooms on such short notice. Maybe it was because the winter festival was winding down, or maybe it was just because it was so damn cold outside, Nicole had said.

"Nom, Monsieur?" the desk clerk asked Dean.

"Huh?" he said. "Oh. Name? Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Why are you saying it like that?" Sam asked his brother, amused. "Who do you think you are, James Bond, or something?"

"OK, first of all, Sammy, we already established a long time ago that I'm Batman," Dean wisecracked. "And, second, I didn't expect him to speak French."

"Combien de cles voulez-vous?" the clerk asked Dean now.

"What? What was that?" the elder Winchester said suspiciously. He nudged Cas. "Is this guy coming on to me?"

"No, Dean," Cas said patiently. "He simply asked you how many keys you want."

"Oh," Dean said. "Two," he told the clerk. who moved away, presumably to get them. "Why didn't he just SAY that, then?" Dean groused. "Don't they speak English here? The only French I know is fries, and 'voulay-voo cooshay avec moi'. And I'm sure as hell not gonna say that to HIM." He pulled Nicole towards him and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Although, if you play your cards right, I might be saying it to YOU, later," he said to her.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "I think you mean that the other way around." She was happy that they were all here, though. She did very well on her own, but Nicole hadn't realized how lonely she had been. Plus, she'd missed out on all the family frivolity at Christmastime. She was glad she'd missed the soap opera, though. It was hard to imagine, really; all that time that Becky had spent there interacting with them all, and she picks Christmas night after dinner to stand up and make her big announcement. Talk about calculating.

Cas had brought Nicole's presents in a big shopping bag, and she'd been amazed. All of these, for her? There were a couple from Dean, one from Sam, one from Cas and Gail, and even one from Bobby. A gift, from God. She had found that so funny, and so touching, both at the same time. All jokes aside, she knew that Bobby was a father figure to both Dean and Sam, so the gift was like a nod of approval to her and Dean's relationship. She would have to talk to Cas later, and find out what the best way would be to thank Bobby personally. Did he have a cell phone, or should she just go to the nearest church, or something?

Dean and Sam got keys to their respective rooms after a bit of hit-and-miss communication with the desk clerk, who refused to speak English to the brothers, for some reason. Gail was smirking at Dean's attempts to get the man to speak English, and the clerk's apparent stubbornness. And then it got even funnier, when Cas stepped up to check in and spoke to the desk clerk in fluent and flawless French. Then, the man started being deferential to Cas, while being rude and snobbish to Dean.

Gail was laughing as they walked to the elevator. "You should see your face," she teased Dean.

"What's that guy's problem?" he grumbled. "Isn't Canada supposed to speak English?"

"Actually, English and French are both official languages here," Nicole instructed him as the group rode up in the elevator. "I had forgotten how prevalent French is here, though, because not too many people speak it where I live now." When they got off the elevator, she took Dean's hand and led him over to the picture window at the end of the hallway. "See that bridge there?" she said, pointing. "That's Quebec, right there on the other side. That's why there's so much French, here."

"Yeah, well, still," Dean insisted, "if I speak English to a guy, I expect him to speak it back to me."

Nicole shook her head slowly. Dean was such a child, sometimes. "Did all of you bring your warm clothes?" she asked the quartet now. "I know it's a sunny day, but don't let that deceive you. It's really cold outside."

"I can't wait," Gail enthused. "Finally, we're someplace that's not a hundred degrees."

Nicole smiled. "We'll see if you still feel that way when you've been outside for a while."

"I want to go ice skating," Cas piped up.

"Sure, we can do that," Nicole said, nodding. "Why don't we put our bags in the rooms, bundle up, and meet downstairs in the lobby? Then we'll walk down to the skate rental place, and skate on the Canal for a bit. The hot chocolate and beaver tails are on me."

"Beaver tails?" Cas said, puzzled. "They're big pastries, and they're delicious," she told him. "I guess you and Gail wouldn't be interested, but we'll get some, and you can at least see what they look like."

Dean was smirking. "Beaver tails," he said, nudging Sam. His little brother rolled his eyes.

They went to their rooms and then, a few minutes later, they were all congregated in the lobby. "Now remember, I warned you: it's very cold," Nicole told them, and Dean let out an impatient breath. "Yeah, yeah. You said that already. Let's go."

He pushed the front door of the hotel open and they all trooped outside. "What are you talking about? This isn't - Oh, holy mother of crap gods!" Dean exclaimed. He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket. "That's cold!" He took out a toque and mashed it onto his head. "Geez, that's freakin' cold!" Then he took out a pair of gloves and pulled them on. Then he looked at Sam. "Better put your hat on, Sammy. I know you don't like to mess up your hair, but..."

Nicole was the one to smirk now, as Sam put on his toque and gloves. She'd warned them, hadn't she? Then she looked at the Angels. Typically, Cas was his usual calm, stoic self. If he felt the cold, he wasn't letting on. But he was looking down at Gail. She already had gloves on, but she was shivering, despite having both a sweater and a thick jacket on. She looked at Nicole, wide-eyed.

"Holy moly," Gail said. "I have to admit, I thought you were exaggerating. My eyes feel all watery, my nose is running, and my ears hurt."

Nicole laughed. She couldn't help it. "Welcome to my childhood," she said. "A few tips: First of all, don't worry about your eyes, because they'll be freezing up, in about two minutes. Your nose and cheeks will get red, and you'll look cute, until the frostbite sets in." She reached into her pocket and handed Gail some tissues. "You'll learn to keep these in your pocket at all times. Your nose will freeze in a minute, too, but when we go inside, it'll start running again, like a leaky faucet. Oh, and as far as your ears go? I thought you might not be prepared, so...ta-da!" She reached into her other pocket and took out what appeared to be a big ball of fuzz. Gail looked curiously at it, and Nicole realized the Angel had no idea what she was looking at.

"They're earmuffs," Nicole explained, but now she was the one who was puzzled. "Didn't you and Frank grow up in Colorado?"

Gail nodded. "Yeah, but I don't remember it ever being THIS cold. Besides, I really wasn't much for the outdoors. I stayed inside a lot, reading."

"Oh. Okay. Let me show you how they work, then," Nicole said. "You just twist them open like this, adjust the headband if you need to, and put them on your head. Simple." She handed them to Gail.

It had looked easy enough, but typically, when Gail went to twist the thing like Nicole had shown her, it didn't seem to want to open for her. Maybe she was twisting it the wrong way. So she tried it the other way, and the earmuffs went flying out of her hands, into a snowbank.

"Crap!" Gail exclaimed, as Sam and Dean laughed at her. Nicole was trying to be nice, but it was hard not to be amused.

"Oh, come on!" Gail said, exasperated. She dug the earmuffs out of the snow, brushing them off impatiently. She looked at Nicole. "Has that ever happened to you?"

"I don't think that's ever happened to anyone," Nicole said, trying to keep a straight face.

Gail tried again, and thankfully, she got it figured out. Cas looked down at her once she had them on. "You look very cute," he told her.

"What?" she quipped, gesturing to her ears. But then she smiled, to show him that she was only joking.

The five of them walked to the hut at the Canal, renting some ice skates. They gave the man some money, and he said, "Don't you have any Canadian? We don't calculate the exchange rate here. It changes way too often."

"That's all right; don't worry about it," Sam said.

"Are you sure?" the guy said doubtfully. "Some days, it's as high as $1.50 per."

Dean held up his hand. "Wait a minute. Are you telling us that for every dollar, we can get a buck and a half?"

"Yeah," the man said, nodding.

"We've gotta go get some Canadian money after this," Dean said fervently, grabbing his skates. "That's, like, 150% profit!"

Sam was grinning. That was typical. As soon as Dean heard there was a way to make his money stretch further, he was all over it. Give him a math problem, and Sam's older brother would sit there, scratching his head. But put a dollar sign in front of the numbers, and suddenly, Dean was Albert Einstein.

"That's awesome," Dean was still enthusing, as they walked over to the nearest bench to put their ice skates on.

"Maybe for you guys, but not so much for my country," Nicole remarked. "The stronger your dollar is, that means the weaker ours is. It's a good thing the first two movies were a success, because that means we get to make more. But the budget is pretty tight for this one. On the bright side, that means not as much location shooting in exotic countries." The men gestured for the women to sit on the bench to put their skates on, as there wasn't enough room for all of them to sit. Nicole pulled off her boots, glancing sideways at Gail. "Chuck's script focuses mainly on family issues this time, not epic quests," she continued. "He's written a really sweet story about you getting Frank back, Frank and Jody falling in love and adopting Rob, and then having a baby together. And I'm not sure how they'll feel about this, but he's also included her breast cancer diagnosis, and her recovery."

Gail nodded. She already knew. On her and Cas's last visit to Frank's house, Jody told them that Bobby had waited till she was having a good day, then brought Chuck to the house to ask her and Frank how they felt about that. Jody'd said she thought it was fantastic. Too many women put off having mammograms, for fear of what the results might show. Jody had done that, herself. But her story was proof that a woman could be diagnosed with breast cancer, and rise above it. That it wasn't a death sentence, but a call to arms. Early detection was often the key. Maybe, just maybe, the storyline would encourage some women to get tested. If it helped save even one woman's life, it was a story worth telling, her present circumstance aside. There was no direct proof that there was a correlation between the breast cancer she'd had, and her brain tumor. None at all. Jody had done a lot of research on the subject. Not only because it directly affected her and her family, but because she worked so closely with the charity. She had to be able to speak knowledgeably about the disease when she was asking for donations, and telling people how their money would be used.

Gail was concentrating now, trying to figure out how to lace her skates. So was Cas. Nicole showed them both, telling them to make sure they pulled the laces tight. Sam and Dean were following her tutorial, as well. Nicole was feeling really smart right now. It was kind of neat, being the only one in a group who knew how to do something. There were many similarities between Americans and Canadians, but there were also a fair amount of cultural differences. Ancient beings like Cas aside, most men, and many women too, learned how to ice skate at a very young age in Canada. Even in cities and towns where there weren't a lot of natural skating rinks, hockey as a sport was practically a religion in Canada. And what little girl didn't fantasize about figure skating gracefully in the Olympics? If she didn't want to play hockey herself, that was. Canada had an extremely talented women's hockey program, as well.

"Why do our skates have these notch thingies at the front, and the guys' don't?" Gail asked Nicole now.

Nicole smirked. "Those are called 'toe picks'. You're supposed to use them to push off with. You probably use them to figure skate too, but truthfully, I don't know the science behind it. I guess the men's skates don't have them because they don't use their toes. I think they skate with their legs apart. Kind of like 'manspreading'. Isn't that the word? You know, when they sit like this?" She opened her legs wide on the bench, taking up as much space as possible.

Gail laughed. "I've seen THAT before," she said, nodding.

"If I had a dime for every time I've seen some guy do that on the bus..." Nicole went on. "I just want to take some rope out of my purse and tie those things together."

"OK, I'm getting a little turned on, right now," Dean wisecracked.

"I love figure skating," Cas remarked suddenly, and everybody looked at him. The women burst out laughing, but predictably enough, Dean scowled. "Of course you do," Dean said derisively. Then the elder Winchester shook his head, looking at Gail. "If you guys renew your vows, is he gonna wear the dress, next time?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Dean. Just because Cas appreciates talent, that doesn't make him a woman."

"If you want, you guys can settle it out on the ice, like men," Nicole joked. "That's how we do things here in Canada."

"I'd rather keep all my teeth, thanks," Sam said, joining in. "Come on, let's try this."

The quartet slowly and gingerly made their way out to the ice. Nicole moved a little more confidently. She herself hadn't skated in years, but it was kind of like riding a bike. If that bike was going to slide right out from under you at any moment, making you fall on your bum, that was. Hopefully, she wouldn't embarrass herself too much. She was supposed to be the expert, here. As long as she didn't break a hip. Now, THAT would be embarrassing.

She started to skate backwards slowly, keeping the four of them in sight. Gail was tottering already. She was pinwheeling her arms for balance, looking down at the ice.

"Dig your toe pick into the ice, and use it to push off," Nicole told Gail, demonstrating.

"What about us?" Dean said dubiously.

"Turn your foot to the side, like this," Nicole showed him. "Look around at the other guys. See how they're doing it?"

As Gail dug her toe into the ice, the men looked around. It seemed easy enough. Cas turned his foot to the side and used it to push off. He glided for a few moments as his companions looked on admiringly. But then he realized he didn't know what to do next. He tried switching the other way, but his feet got all tangled up, and he went down, like a ton of bricks.

"Sweetie!" Gail exclaimed. She pushed off with her toe pick, hard, and glided over to where he was. But then she realized that she had no idea how to stop her forward motion. She tripped over her husband, landing hard on top of him. Cas made an "Oof" sound as her skate caught him in an uncomfortable spot.

Dean started to laugh, and when he did, his feet slid out from under him, and down he went. Whether accidentally or on purpose was unclear, but his arm flew out on the way down and snagged Sam's pants leg, and then Sam went down, too.

Nicole stood there, looking at the crumpled forms of her friends, laying on the ice. "I feel like I should be blowing smoke from the barrel of a gun and putting it back in my holster," she quipped. "I haven't seen such a pileup since the last time I drove on the Coquihalla Highway."

"Ow," Gail said, grimacing. She was getting up slowly, using Cas's body to push up from with her hands. He was being stoic about it, but he was grimacing, too. That had been most unexpected. Cas was used to mastering almost every new thing he tried. And he would excel at this too, he was sure. He just needed to try it again. He reached out to help Gail rise to her feet. He gripped her by the upper arms, and when she was upright, Cas knelt, then put one skated foot on the ice to push himself to a standing position. Then, he was standing upright on the ice.

"There," he said. "Now, we can begin to - "

His foot slipped, and he went down again. And because he still had a hold of Gail's arms in an attempt to help her stay on her feet, she went down with him. Fortunately, Cas had the presence of mind to make sure that she stayed on top, so he could cushion her fall.

The Angels lay there for a minute, trying to regroup. The wind had been knocked out of them, and they were both sore now. Cas had borne the brunt of it, both times. It was a good thing that they had bought him the thick winter coat he was wearing now, or it could have been worse.

"Are you all right, my love?" Cas asked his wife, and Gail said, "I don't know. I'm kind of scared to move, right now."

Nicole glided over gracefully to find out if they were okay. Admittedly, she'd been laughing, too. But, Angels or not, they still had human vessels, with breakable bones.

Sam and Dean skated over after her, less gracefully, of course. But it seemed like they were getting the hang of it, already. All you needed was balance, Dean thought. And a little confidence didn't hurt, either. You couldn't be afraid of falling down and getting hurt; otherwise, you'd psych yourself out. He looked at Nicole. She was looking down at Cas and Gail, trying to keep a straight face. No, you couldn't be afraid of falling and getting hurt, Dean repeated to himself.

"Are you guys all right?" Sam asked them, as Gail was once again trying to get up off the ice. Or, more accurately, off her husband.

"Yeah, I think so. Just more embarrassed than anything else," Gail said. Her knee was in his manspreading area, Nicole couldn't help but note. As Gail struggled to rise to her feet, Cas made a peculiar sound that was half-squeal and half-groan, and Nicole had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. She moved forward to help lift Gail off of Cas, before Gail's poor husband became the woman that Dean was always accusing him of being.

Once Gail was upright again, Sam and Dean took one of Cas's arms each and helped him up. "Isn't skating fun?" Dean said, giving his Angel friend a toothy grin. Cas swore under his breath in Enochian, making Sam grin. It was a good thing Dean didn't understand what Cas had just said. As it was, Sam winced internally. Boy, would THAT ever be painful to attempt with a skate.

"I think we need a beaver tail break," Nicole announced. "The shack's just down there." She pointed. "Do you guys want to sit this out, or do you want to try it?"

Cas looked at Gail, and her lips were pursed. "I'm not a quitter," she said stubbornly. "I want to try it some more."

"So do I," Cas agreed. "Here, give me your hand."

Gail looked at him, then looked at his hand. "Maybe we should just try it on our own, first," she said hesitantly. "Then, if we get better, we can try it together."

Dean was smirking again. That was smart of her. Then the next time Cas fell, at least he wouldn't bring Gail down with him. That would probably be better for the both of them, in the long run. Even though Dean had nearly bust a gut laughing, especially when Cas had made that sound, the one that every man could identify with, sooner or later. But Dean really didn't wish any lasting harm on his friend, even though it had been funny as hell.

"OK, let's go get some beaver...I mean, some tail..." Dean wisecracked, and Nicole rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised it took you this long," she said to her boyfriend. He skated forward, taking her hand. "Last one to the shack buys," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Get your wallet out, Cas." Then, he and Nicole skated off. Sam followed. Gail gave her husband a half-shrug, tottering tentatively after them.

Cas watched them all for a moment. Then he sighed, put his head down, and slowly pushed off again.

It had been a wonderful, fun-filled day. After the ice skating, they had walked around the downtown area for a bit. Then, when it became too cold for that to be fun anymore, they went into a pub with the fanciful name of The Elephant And Castle. Gail had Cas take a picture of the placard outside and asked him to send it to Frank, thinking he'd get a kick out of it. Maybe he could tell Angela that Poochie had a Canadian cousin or something, Gail had told Cas to type. He had laughed softly, and duly sent the message.

They had drinks by the fireplace, and Cas and Gail had hot chocolate to warm up, while their human friends ate. As they started to thaw out a bit, Gail was brushing little bits of snow off her and Cas's clothes.

"Actually, ice skating isn't so bad, once you get the hang of it," Cas said to the group. "But, I have no idea how the professionals do it. They make everything look so easy. So graceful."

"YOU weren't very graceful, that's for sure," Dean teased his friend. "Wait till Frank gets THOSE pictures."

"You didn't," Gail said, and Dean smirked. "I kinda did," he told her, and she shook her head. Great. Now everybody was going to be making fun of them. Oh, well. A small part of her that she should probably be ashamed of was actually a little bit glad that Cas wasn't great at ice skating. He was so good at almost everything else that she felt relieved that he had a tiny flaw or two. Who wanted to be married to somebody who was perfect all the time?

"If you're up for it, we could go look at the ice sculptures after this," Nicole said. "They have live music in the park, and horse-drawn sleigh rides." She looked at the Angels. "You guys might like that. They bundle you up in blankets and take you through the park. It's supposed to be very romantic. And, the horses hardly ever slip and fall." She grinned. "Sorry; I couldn't resist."

Cas smiled sheepishly. "That sounds very nice. And it's all right, Nicole. We make jokes like that in our family all the time."

Nicole looked at him for a minute. Was Cas calling her a member of the family? How did she feel about that? Dean took her hand now, giving it a squeeze.

"What about your grandfather's house?" Sam asked her.

Nicole shrugged. "It'll still be there tomorrow. I just figured I owed you a day of fun for coming all this way to help me with my problem."

"OK, first of all, it's not 'all this way'," Dean said to her. "It takes two seconds to get here by Angel Uber. And, second..." he leaned towards her, kissing her cheek.

"Second...what?" Nicole said.

"I think I made my point," Dean said, smiling.

Then the food came, but Nicole wasn't feeling very hungry. She'd had a lot to think about when she'd come out here at Christmastime. That was why she had taken such a long compassionate leave from work. Richard had very generously given her three months to sort everything out, but Nicole was still conflicted about a great many things. Where was her life going? She wasn't getting any younger, and every time she turned around, she was reminded that life was short. Was this really what she wanted to be doing? She loved the entertainment industry, but in some ways, it was starting to feel a little frivolous to her. The people on the show were great, but some of the fans and the Hollywood people weren't. The actors and the crew were good people, establishing charities to help others. Richard and Wilma volunteered to help abused women. And, what did Nicole do? What did she WANT to do?

And then, there were the people she was with now. Loving, wonderful people. Funny, interesting people. Dean was the sexiest, most handsome guy she had ever been with, but there was a lot more to him than just good looks. He was a quality guy, a man of substance. A hero to many, including the members of his extended family, and his younger brother, of course. Nicole could tell that Dean cared about her, and she cared about him, too. But, what did that even mean? Or did it have to mean anything at all?

Dean's phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his coat pocket, checking the screen. He laughed out loud. "Look what Frank said," he grinned, showing Nicole and Sam the phone.

Gail was suspicious. "What? What did he say?"

"Oops, I accidentally deleted it," Dean said innocently, putting the phone back in his pocket.

As Gail thought about that, Sam and Nicole began to have a conversation about how the Canadians handled such issues as medical care. "I don't understand why we can't have socialized medicine in the U.S.," Sam remarked. "I don't care what your politics are, when it comes to health, everybody should have the right to receive care, not just the rich. Becky showed me price quotes from a few of the local hospitals. You wouldn't believe how much it costs to have a baby, and receive proper care."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Oh boy, Nicole thought. She'd known that was a touchy subject, but you could cut the tension with a knife.

"I told her I'll give her however much she needs, of course," Sam plodded on, "but there are a lot of families who aren't as well off as we are."

More silence. Then, suddenly, Dean said, "And what's up with you guys, not having any guns here?" he said, swallowing a bite of his burger.

"Why would we need guns?" Nicole asked him, relieved at the change of subject.

"To defend yourself," Dean replied incredulously.

"Against WHAT?" Nicole said.

"Uhhhh...people with guns," Dean said, as if the answer should be obvious.

Nicole stared at him. Then she started to smile. "Gail, could you take over for me, while I finish my lunch?"

"Gladly," Gail said happily. She started pointing out to Dean what she saw as the numerous flaws in his argument as Sam continued to eat quietly. He guessed he shouldn't have brought that up. But he couldn't help it. He was going to be a father in a few months, and they all needed to get used to the idea. Ignoring it was not going to negate the reality.

They had moved on to other subjects now, though. So Sam kept quiet about it, and when lunch was over and the bill came, Nicole showed Dean what colour bill was worth what amount, when it came to paying. He and Cas had both gone to an ATM after ice skating to get some Canadian money. Interestingly enough, Nicole had noted, Sam had stepped up to get some too, but Dean had told him it was unnecessary. Maybe Dean's bark was a little worse than his bite when it came to acknowledging that Sam was kicking in for Becky's medical care. After all, if Sam was indeed the baby's father, that would make Dean the baby's uncle, wouldn't it? Although there was no way in hell that anybody was bringing up that particular little gem right now.

"See, even if you didn't see the denomination on the corner, you could tell at a glance how much it's worth," Nicole was showing Dean now. "Blue, purple, green, red, and brown."

Dean was shaking his head. "See, this is just ridiculous. I mean, who can take this seriously? It looks fake."

Nicole sighed patiently. "I know. We get that all the time. Funny money, Monopoly money..."

"I think it looks very nice," Cas commented. He was much more familiar with the way the currency looked, of course, having lived, worked, and played poker in Canada.

"Of course you do," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "And what's up with those one-and-two-dollar coins? How much change am I supposed to HAVE in my pockets, anyway?"

"I have to admit, I'm with Dean on that one," Sam said with a grin. "If he puts any more change in his pockets, his pants will be hanging low."

"Hey, maybe THAT'S why those young guys wear them that way," Gail chipped in. "It might not be a fashion choice, after all; maybe they just haven't been to the bank, yet."

"Why don't you just leave all the change for the server, then?" Cas said reasonably, and Dean shrugged. Sure, what the hell? That was as good a way as any to get rid of it.

Then they all left the restaurant, bundling up again for some more winter fun.

As the three humans and two Angels were looking at ice sculptures, Chuck was finishing up at the library. His movie script was finished, so unless they had any additional scenes in mind, there was nothing more for him to do now but anticipate his and Laurel's wedding.

He was re-shelving some books when the feeling started to come. So he quickly made his way back to the front desk, sitting in the chair there. Just before everything went dark, he pulled a pad of paper and a pen toward him, in case there was anything he would need to write down.

The first thing he saw was Frank and some of the guys, shopping at what looked like a butcher shop. Frank was having a summer barbecue, and they were there to pick up some meat for it. OK, so...what? Why was Chuck getting the Prophecy tingle over something so mundane? The men were talking about Becky and the baby. It was unclear whether she'd already had the baby, or was about to. But again, nothing too remarkable.

Boy, that had been wild when Becky had stood up and made her announcement at Christmas. What a shocker. Chuck had had no idea that Sam and Becky had been together in that way. Was Sam nuts? Becky had been obsessed with Sam ever since she and Chuck had dated, back in the day. She'd dropped Chuck like a hot potato, to keep her options open for Sam. It was kind of pathetic, really. Chuck's ego had been bruised, of course, but when he'd seen how unrequited Becky's affection was, Chuck had supposed it would be silly to hold a grudge. But now, Becky was having Sam's baby? How the hell had that happened? And, maybe more on point, why had Sam allowed it to happen?

No, that wasn't it, nor was the fact that Frank was cracking jokes with a heavy heart. Was Jody gone, or was she still alive? Chuck's vision wasn't clear on that score, either. So far, as Prophecies went, it was a bust.

Then, he saw a woman handing something to Gail. A little stick, of some sort. Wait a minute. That was a flash drive. Chuck had used one of those before, in his laptop. He didn't recognize the woman, though.

Suddenly, the scene changed, and Rowena was standing outside the bunker, smiling. Boy, had SHE ever fooled Chuck, when the two of them had had their little dalliance in France. Chuck had told Laurel nearly everything about his past, including some really embarrassing stuff, but he had never told her about that. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because of who Rowena was, and because Chuck had been so gullible. He'd brought that sculpture of the Eiffel Tower back here to the library, and the spell it had cast on him had been horrifying. And, what had been the point? Had Rowena really wanted Chuck to become the monster he almost became, or had she just been playing with them? And why was his vision showing her standing outside the bunker?

Now, here was yet another vision. What the hell? The dam had burst open, apparently. This one was just as ominous, even though it was a brief glimpse, only: Patricia was...somewhere, and she was inhaling a vial full of Grace. Oh, no. No. It couldn't be. Chuck was horror-struck now, as he realized whose Grace it was. No.

Cas stepped out of the fog that was starting to gather in Chuck's mind. That was the signal that the visions were almost over. But Chuck knew that he hadn't seen the really big one yet, so he squinted mentally, trying to focus.

"Love is the cure," Cas was saying. "It's what saved me. It's the only thing we have left. The key to everything."

Dean's voice: "Sam! Sammy!" The roar of some kind of beast. The Mark of the Beast? They had been warned, but they had paid no heed. It was out of His hands now.

Chuck came out of it, and he was shaking like a leaf. The End was coming. The End was coming.

"You look very cute, with your little red nose, and your pink cheeks," Cas told Gail. He took the earmuffs off her head for her, and she smiled at him gratefully. It was easier that way. For some reason, whenever she tried to do it, they tended to spring out of her hands and go flying. Nicole thought it was hilarious. When they'd ducked into another pub in the middle of the afternoon to have a quick drink and warm up, Gail had taken off her earmuffs and they'd gone whizzing onto the table next to theirs, barely missing a startled woman's bowl of soup. Cas had gone to retrieve them, apologizing to the lady. But Nicole had never seen anything like it. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that Gail was doing it on purpose, just for the entertainment value. But the bewildered look on the Angel's face seemed to suggest otherwise.

It was probably just as well, though. They were in a bit more of an upscale establishment now, about to have dinner. They'd had their fill of winter frivolity, and had started making their way back to the hotel. Dean had announced that he was hungry, and Nicole had been too, since she hadn't eaten that much at lunch. But she didn't think they would be able to eat at their hotel, not with the casual clothes they had on. Besides, she was sure the prices would be exorbitant. As it was, their room had likely cost a small fortune. Dean had refused to tell her, probably because he'd known it would freak her out. Nicole was a low-maintenance woman, which was one of the reasons why hanging around Hollywood types made her feel so uncomfortable.

"Thank you for taking us to the winter carnival," Cas said to Nicole now. "It was lovely."

"Those ice sculptures were pretty impressive," Sam remarked.

"We should try that at home next year, out back," Dean said, perusing the menu. "I've been looking for an excuse to use that chainsaw."

"Yeah, because I'm sure it's just that easy," Gail said dryly. She smiled at Nicole. "I want to thank you for the earmuffs. They were a lifesaver."

"And they make pretty good stealth weapons in the right hands, too," Sam teased her.

She stared at him, then made a face. But before she had the chance to form a good retort, Dean said, "So, we'll go to your grandfather's house tomorrow and see what kind of manifestation we're dealing with."

"Do you have any idea how old the house is, or who the previous owners might have been?" Sam asked Nicole.

"No," she said uncertainly. "I'm pretty sure the place is at least a hundred years old, though. That's why I didn't think anything of it when I heard all those creaks, and other noises. The older the thing, the more noise it makes when it gets cold and damp. Right?" she added, poking Dean playfully.

As Dean tried valiantly to ignore his girlfriend's teasing, Sam asked Nicole for the address of the house. He took out his phone and Googled the place, but got no results.

"I'll tell you what," Nicole said. "My Grandpa's got a lot of old, yellowed papers in the attic. I was just starting to go through them when all the trouble at the house began. Maybe we can find some clues in there." She smirked. "Sounds like a Nancy Drew mystery, or something."

Dean looked at her. Yeah. Nancy Drew. His and Sammy's mysteries usually turned out to be a lot scarier and a lot more gory than those. Still, he would keep her by his side, and everything would be fine. "What are you having?" he asked her, looking back down at the menu.

Nicole's grandfather's house was a bit of a surprise to them all.

Actually, they should probably just call it Nicole's house now, Gail reasoned. As the last surviving member of her family, Nicole would be the rightful owner, wouldn't she? But part of the process was to go through all of her grandfather's papers, Nicole had said, just to make sure. A man her Grandpa's age must have had a Will, but so far, she had been unable to find it. Therefore, she was in a bit of a legal limbo right now. She couldn't actually put the house on the market until she could prove that it was legally hers. Oh, and there was the whole haunting thing, too. Not exactly a big selling point.

But the house itself was magnificent, Cas thought. Nicole was right; it was a couple of hundred years old, easily. Cas recognized the architectural style of the era. Huge rooms, with high ceilings. Wood carvings, some of them quite elaborate. Sconces on the wall that were meant for lanterns or kerosene lamps, in the days when there had been no electricity.

"Cas, why don't you and Gail poke around down here?" Dean said to his friends. "Look for any hidden compartments, loose floorboards, or any books with clues in them."

Cas nodded. Certainly, they could do that.

Dean took Nicole's hand. "Come upstairs with me and Sam," he said to her. "We can get him started in the attic with those papers, and we'll look around on the second floor."

As the three humans climbed the stairs, Dean was grinning. The talk about Nancy Drew last night had gotten him thinking. Cas and Gail had no idea what they were doing, so Dean had made his request sound like an important part of the investigation. But unless there was an actual, tangible manifestation down there, Dean was pretty sure the answer to the mystery was going to be found in those documents. But there was definitely something here. SomeONE. They had taken the EMF unit out when they'd come through the front door, and the needle had immediately shot through to the red. They'd rented a car this morning, and Cas had popped Dean back to the bunker to get the standard weapons to load into the trunk. They also had salt, and plenty of it. Nicole had joked that this was Ottawa, in the wintertime; of course salt was available. Tons and tons of it.

Cas and Gail were looking around the living room now, checking the walls and the floors as Dean had suggested. "I had fun yesterday, despite the fact that I'm a little sore today," Cas remarked.

"So did I," Gail replied. "But Nicole sure wasn't exaggerating about the cold, was she? It's cold in here, too."

"Well, it's a big house, and it's drafty," Cas said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Gail said doubtfully, but then she looked at him. He was feeling the bricks around the fireplace. "I can see your breath, Cas," she told him. "I don't think that's because the house is drafty."

"Call us if you find anything," Dean said to Sam. He descended the steps of the ladder that led to the attic. "OK, while he's doing that, we'll look around up here. Which bedroom have you been sleeping in?"

She led him to one of the guest rooms. "I guess I'm so used to being in an apartment now that I don't need that much space," she told him. "Plus, I felt kind of weird about sleeping in the master bedroom. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I should have realized that something was up. That room just had kind of a strange vibe to it."

Dean was thoughtful. "We should probably go check it out. In a minute." He sat her down on the bed, then sat next to her. "How are you doing, Nicole? Really?"

She looked at him curiously. They'd spent a very warm and intimate night in his hotel room the night before, and they'd also talked about a number of things: her grandfather, the movie, Becky and the baby, Jody...but the question kind of threw her. How WAS she doing? Really?

Sam's nose was tingling from all the dust that was kicking up as he opened box after box of old newspapers. Nicole had given him carte blanche to look through anything and everything. But Sam was realizing now that her grandfather, or whoever had lived here prior to him, had been a little bit of a hoarder. Not as bad as Gail's Uncle Andy, but still...they seemed to have had a weakness for old newspapers. Like, really old. The Cold War, the Hindenburg, the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, the Roaring 20s...wow. It was all here. Fascinating, from a historical viewpoint. But it would take years to go through all these newspapers, and if there was something in there that was significant to Nicole or her ghost, Sam would have no idea where to even begin. No, it would be best to concentrate on any information he could find out about the house, and its previous owners.

He kept digging.

Cas and Gail were looking around the room now, waiting to see if anything moved, or if a ghost would suddenly appear. There was no sense calling out to Sam and Dean over a chilly room.

Gail was standing near the big picture window. When they had first entered the room, Nicole had opened the drapes to let in some natural light. They were big, heavy drapes made of thick material. There was brocade at the top, and they opened and closed with drawstrings, like the drapes on a stage at an old-fashioned theatre.

Suddenly, the drape on the left came down from the window, winding itself around Gail. She'd been caught by surprise, so her arms were trapped by her sides as the heavy fabric bound her tightly.

It had all happened so quickly that Cas hadn't had time to react. He crossed the room quickly and tried to extricate her, but the cloth had bound her securely. As Cas tried to grab hold of the tightly-wound material, he fretted, "Are you all right, my love?"

"I'm fine, Cas," she assured him. "I just can't move."

But that was when one of the drawstrings snapped loose and wound itself around Gail's neck.

"Hey, Nicole, I think I found something," Sam announced. "Can you guys come up here for a minute?"

"Sure, Sam," she said. She and Dean had been talking quietly in the room she had taken as her own when Dean's brother called out. "We'll come up there."

Sam was holding an accordion file. "There's a bunch of documents in here, including a deed to the house. This must be the people who owned it before your grandfather." He showed her the deed, and Nicole smiled.

"OK, you've got me, Sam. I'm an impostor," she said.

Cas had tried everything he could think of, but it wasn't working. He had pulled at the cord with all his might, but it kept getting tighter and tighter, cutting off Gail's air. And he didn't dare try using his powers on it, for fear of hurting her. So, he did the only thing he could do: he reached into his pocket for his Angel blade.

"Hold still," he instructed Gail. No problem. She was on the verge of blacking out due to lack of oxygen, anyway. Cas cut the drawstring, using as much care as he could not to cut his wife in the process. Finally, it fell to the floor as Gail gulped in some much-needed air. Then Cas cut the material from her body and she stumbled forward, when he was done. He caught her in his arms and held her steady as she regained her breath.

"Wow," Gail eventually commented wryly. "I guess we're dealing with a vengeful kind of ghost, then."

"Here, give me your hand," Cas said. He popped her upstairs immediately. "Dean! Sam!" he called out.

"We're in the attic, Cas. Come on up," Dean said.

Cas boosted Gail up the ladder, and then he followed her. Then he told the group what had just happened, and Nicole gasped. "Are you all right?" she asked Gail.

"I'm fine," Gail assured her, "but I guess we owe you a new set of drapes."

"The hell with that, I'm just glad you're OK," Nicole said.

"You're just in time for the big reveal," Sam quipped. "Nicole was just telling us that she's an impostor."

As they all looked at her, puzzled, Dean's girlfriend laughed. "OK, I may have seen a few too many movies," she admitted. "All I meant was that the name on that deed is actually my family name. I go by Baxter, because it's a lot easier to spell, and pronounce. Besides, when I started to work on the show, they said it might appear in the credits, so I just wanted to keep it simple. But, it's kind of weird: that's not my grandfather's last name on the deed. His name was Hasemov."

"Then, who's..." Dean squinted at the name on the deed, struggling to pronounce it. "Bux-hoe-veden?"

"Not bad, for a first try," Nicole teased him lightly. "That's my grandmother's maiden name. Buxhoveden. I'm not sure what nationality she was, but my Grandpa was Russian."

Sam was thoughtful now. "I wonder why the deed to the house would be in your grandmother's name? Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added hastily. "It's just that everything was usually under the man's name, back then. Right, Cas?"

Cas nodded. "Yes, that's quite true. Even the man's wife was considered his chattel."

Gail and Nicole looked at each other. "Mooooo," they said together, and then they laughed.

Dean did a double-take, and then he said, "Maybe it was a tax dodge of some kind. Was Grandpa a bootlegger, back in the day? Or maybe he was in the Russian mob."

Nicole laughed. "Not too likely. He was a shoe salesman."

"What about your grandmother's side of the family?" Gail asked her. "What do you know about them?"

"Not much," Nicole admitted.

Sam had his cell phone out, but a moment later, he frowned. "That's funny. I charged it this morning, but I'm not getting anything."

"Maybe it's because we're up here," Nicole said. "Let's grab those other documents and head downstairs. I'll put some coffee on, and we can look through them."

"Wait here with Sam for a minute," Dean instructed her. He looked at Cas, who was already nodding. He put his hand on Dean's arm, and they disappeared. A moment later, they were back, with weapons.

Dean gave each of them a gun. "Those have rock salt in the barrels," he told the women. "That won't kill a ghost, but it'll slow it down long enough for us to trap it." He looked at Gail. "Or, to stop IT from trapping YOU."

She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but then she reconsidered, and closed it again. Dean knew what he was doing, and clearly, she didn't.

Nicole looked at the gun he'd handed her dubiously, but she accepted it, as did Gail.

"You guys go ahead to the kitchen," Dean continued, motioning to his brother to escort the ladies. "Me and Cas will start spreading the salt."

But as Sam descended from the attic and checked his cell phone again, it still wouldn't work. "I'll get my laptop from my room, and bring it into the kitchen," Nicole told him. "I know THAT works. I've been using it the whole time I've been here."

"We'll come with you," Sam said, gesturing to Gail as his brother and Cas started down the stairs to the ground floor.

Nicole grabbed her computer and shoved it in the bag, so she could carry the bag in one hand and the gun in the other. That was so weird, but she guessed that after what had happened to Gail, it was better safe than sorry. This must be really frustrating for her Angel friends, she thought to herself. They had all those powers, but you couldn't zap what you couldn't see, could you?

When the coffee was on, Nicole, Sam and Gail sat down at the kitchen table. "Why don't you divide up the documents, and we'll all go through some?" Nicole said to Sam, bringing mugs for both of them to the table.

"What are we looking for?" Gail asked her companions. Sam shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "At this point, any names or dates would at least be a starting-off point."

Nicole plugged her computer into the outlet beside the kitchen table, waiting for it to power up.

"So, your grandmother was Victoria Buxhoveden?" Sam said to Nicole.

She nodded. "Yeah, and my Grandpa's full name was Evgenyi Dmitri Hasemov. He went by Eugene."

"What about your parents?" Gail inquired.

"My Mom and Dad died years ago, when I was just into my teens," Nicole replied. "Car accident."

"I'm sorry," Gail said.

"Thanks," Nicole acknowledged, nodding. "It was pretty hard to handle at the time." She smiled faintly. "But, look who I'm telling. You guys know what I'm talking about. The only difference is, their deaths were sudden, but they weren't killed by monsters. Just a mini-van."

"But at least I had Dean, and Gail had Frank," Sam pointed out. "You're an only child, aren't you?"

"Yep," Nicole confirmed, taking a sip of her coffee. "That's probably why I've always been so independent. So, I stayed with my grandparents for a few more years after that, but by then, I'd saved enough to move out. And I used the money from my parents' life insurance to go to night school while I was working. I learned how to do theatrical makeup and costume design, and when I moved out to B.C., I pounded the pavement until I got the job on Supernatural. At the time, we were just a low-budget show on a fledgling TV network. I showed them I could do some pretty cool things, with very little to work with. So that got my foot in the door, and the rest is...well, you know." She looked at her computer screen. "OK, now, this is weird. The stupid thing isn't connecting. I had Wi-Fi set up as soon as I moved in here, and I haven't had any problems with it."

"Can ghosts mess up Internet reception?" Gail asked Sam, half-jokingly.

His brow furrowed. "It sounds funny, I know, but believe it or not, that's not unheard of."

"Well, let's at least look through this stuff, in the meantime," Nicole said, shifting her focus to the piles of documents. "If we find anything that looks important, we can set it aside. Then, if my computer's still not working, we can always write down some stuff, and then leave the house."

"I think Dean wants to get the ghost to manifest," Sam told her. "If it will, maybe we can get it to tell us what it's so mad about."

Nicole smiled faintly. "Sounds like we're missing a niche market, there. A Dr. Phil, for ghosts."

They looked through the papers quietly for a couple of minutes, and then Nicole said, "I do remember my grandmother telling me one time that I was named after her father, Nicholas. So I guess that's another name to check." She tried the computer again, shaking her head. Still nothing.

All of a sudden, they heard some thumping noises, coming from the living room area. "Son of a bitch!" they heard Dean exclaim.

Sam grabbed his gun and bolted out of the kitchen. Gail and Nicole exchanged a quick look, and then they followed suit.

The knick-knacks that had been sitting on the mantel above the fireplace were strewn around the living room, and Cas and Dean were ducking now as books began to sail off the bookcase and fly towards them.

"Show us who you are," Dean was saying, while dodging the projectiles. "We can help you."

"Nobody can help me," a young male voice said. They could just make out a grey shimmery figure now. Dean and Cas had poured salt all around the perimeter of the living room. The ghost appeared to be an adolescent boy, dressed in a shirt and knickers. Nicole recognized the clothing from her years in costuming as being from the 1930s.

"We'd like to try," Sam said, lowering his gun. "What's your name?"

"William," the boy said.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked him. "What happened to you?"

"My sister and me were playing," William said in reply. "She locked me in the closet. She said she wouldn't let me out until I said I was sorry for getting her in trouble. But, I didn't! I told her I didn't do it, but she called me a liar!" Another couple of books came flying off the bookshelf as William became more agitated.

"So what happened then, William?" Sam asked the ghost in a calm tone.

"I couldn't get out," the boy said sadly. "I waited, and waited, but they didn't come back."

Crap. Dean and his brother exchanged glances. The kid had probably died in that closet. Geez, that was tough.

"Listen, William, we can help you," Dean told the ghost. "If you promise not to throw things at us any more, we can get you out of this house. Deal?"

"Okay," the boy said in a small voice.

Dean motioned to Cas. The men came over to where Sam and the women were standing.

"How horrible," Nicole commented softly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "The kid's not mad, he just wants to be set free from the house."

"Can you do that?" she asked him.

"Sure, if we can find out where he's buried," Dean replied.

And it was just that simple. As soon as the Winchesters had talked to William, finding out his last name and the year he had died, Sam stepped outside the house, turned the data plan on his cell phone, and looked it up. And, there it was. Poor William Allen, 12 years old. Born in 1925, died in 1937. His mother, father and sister had been killed in a car accident, ironically enough, considering that Nicole's parents had died the same way. And, tragically, because William's entire family had perished in the car crash and he had been back at the house, locked in the closet, he had starved to death.

They'd found out where the family was buried, and Sam and Dean had burned William's bones, after the graveyard was closed for the night. It was still freezing cold outside, but Gail went to the grave with them, using her blade to melt the snow and the frozen ground, so that they could dig through to get to the coffin. Then, Gail went to join Cas and Nicole in the car that they had rented. She had no desire to see the poor child's bones, and the brothers had assured her that they could take care of it from there.

Afterwards, they drove back to the house with the heat on full blast, to thaw the brothers out. They had worked as quickly as possible, but they'd said that that was the coldest graveyard that they'd ever been to. And they'd been to a lot.

When they got back, Nicole put on a pot of coffee and brought a bottle of liqueur out from a cabinet, offering to give the brothers a shot, to warm them up. She knocked one back, too.

"So, is that it?" she asked them. "Is William gone?"

"He should be," Dean told her. "But just to be on the safe side, I should stay here with you tonight, just to make sure."

She smiled. "I'd like that."

"Cas and Gail are gonna take me home," Sam said. "I want to check on Becky."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he said nothing. Nicole quickly poured him another shot, and he grinned at her briefly.

"Thanks for coming, you guys," Nicole said to Dean's brother, and the Angels. "It was good to see you." Her smile widened. "Pop by, anytime you need a few more skating lessons," she added, looking at Cas.

Gail grimaced. "I think we've had about enough of that, for a while. Fighting Demons is less painful."

Sam rose from his chair at the kitchen table. "Cas and I will get our bags from the car," he told Nicole.

"Wait," Dean said to his brother. "Since I have to get mine too, I'll go with you." He looked at the Angels. "You guys stay here. Just in case."

As Sam and Dean left the room, Nicole looked at Cas and Gail. "I'll be right back," she told them. She wanted to check the living room, just to see if anything else had been disturbed. Now that she knew about William and his sad story, she didn't feel scared any more. But, she just wanted to make sure.

Thankfully, everything was quiet. She stood there in the middle of the room, thinking about what had happened here, and the matter-of-fact way that her friends had dealt with it. And Sam and Dean did that kind of thing all the time? It boggled her mind.

She'd been about to leave the room when she noticed the book, sitting on the coffee table. They'd put everything back the way it was before they'd left for the cemetery, or so she had thought. Had one of the others put this there?

Nicole looked closer. Oh. It was the Bible. Oh, well. That couldn't be too sinister, then. Maybe Cas had put it there after picking it up off the floor. He probably didn't want to see it laying there on the floor like that. In any event, Nicole picked it up and quickly riffled through the pages. No; no mysterious documents in-between the pages, or anything. She guessed the mystery had pretty much been solved, anyway. This was obviously her grandfather's Bible. The text was Russian, a language that Nicole recognized, even though she didn't speak it, and could only read the occasional word or phrase.

She took the Bible over to the bookcase and inserted it among the books, without looking at it further. If she had opened it to the first page, she would have seen a name embossed in gold there, a name that may have prompted a lot more questions. But as it was, Nicole just wanted to get back to her guests before they left.

So she slid the Romanov family Bible back into an empty spot on the shelf, and went back into the kitchen.

Nicole chatted with the Angels for another minute or two, and then Sam and Dean came back in the house.

"I was starting to wonder if you guys fell into a snowbank, or something," Nicole teased them.

Both brothers were grinning from ear to ear, and her look turned suspicious. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam said quickly. "Dean told me a joke."

"Well, let's hear it," Gail piped up.

"Sorry, it's not for mixed company," Dean said.

Gail rolled her eyes. Since when had that ever stopped them before? Was he trying to be a gentleman around Nicole, maybe? But from what Gail could tell, Dean's girlfriend had never been the kind of woman who would be bothered by that kind of thing.

"OK, well, take care, Nicole," Sam said. Then he moved forward and hugged her. She was a little surprised by that; they'd never done that before. But she returned his embrace. "Good luck with the baby thing," she said impulsively. Dean scowled, but Nicole wasn't too concerned. Once the two of them were bundled up in a couple of blankets with the bottle of liqueur on the nightstand, she had the feeling that Dean could be convinced to forget about that whole mess for a while.

Cas and Gail added their goodbyes, and Cas told Dean to call him when he needed a lift back home. Then, the three of them popped out.

Dean sat down next to Nicole at the kitchen table. He'd put his bag down on the floor, but he still had his winter jacket on.

"Take off your coat," Nicole said lightly. "Stay a while." She picked up the liqueur bottle. "Want another?"

"No," Dean said, and there was a tone to his voice that she couldn't quite figure out. He was just sitting there, staring at her.

"What?" Nicole asked him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Dean said tersely. "Nothing's going on."

Nicole sighed. "OK, you're kind of freaking me out, now," she told him. "What's on your mind, Dean?"

He looked at her for another minute. Then he reached into his jacket pocket for the ring box, kneeling on the floor in front of her.

"Will you marry me?" Dean asked Nicole.

\- END OF BOOK 39. -


End file.
